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MISSION SAN LOUIS KEY DE FKANCIA 




Romances of the 

California Mission Days 

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BY 

ELIZABETH GORE MILLER 


ILLUSTRATED 

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PORTLAND, MAINE 
PRESS OF LEFAVOR-TOWER COMPANY 

1905 


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Copyright, 1903, by 
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2Debication 

TO MY SON 

WHOSE LIVING AND LOVING INTEREST IN THE CALIFORNIA 
MISSION LIFE HAS BEEN AN INSPIRATION IN 
THE WRITING OF THESE 
ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS. 


THE ANGEL US 

Heard at the Mission Dolores , San Francisco , 1868. 

Bells of the past , whose long-forgotten music 
Still fills the wide expanse , 

Tingeing the sober twilight of the present 
With color of romance. 

I hear your call, and see the sun descending 
On rock, and wave, and sand, 

As down the coast the mission voices blending 
Girdle the heathen land. 

Within the circle of their incantation 
No blight or mildew falls ; 

Nor fierce unrest, nor lust, nor low ambition 
Passes those airy walls. 

Borne on the swell of your long waves receding, 

I touch the further Past — 

I see the dying glow of Spanish glory. 

The sunset dream and last! 

Before me rise the dome-shaped mission towers, 

The white presidio ; 

The swart commander in his leathern jerkin. 

The priest in stole of snow. 

Once more I see Porto la's cross uplifting 
Above the setting sun ; 

And past the headland, northward, slowly drifting , 

The freighted galleon. 

O solemn bells ! whose consecrated masses 
Recall the faith of old — 

O tinkling bells ! that lulled with twilight music 
The spiritual fold — 

Your voices break and falter in the darkness — 

Break, falter, and are still; 

And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending , 

The sun sinks from the hill! 

— F. Bret Harte. 

Used by permission of and by arrangement with 
Houghton, Mifflin &■» Co. 


PREFACE 


No State in the Union has been so enriched in 
those marvelous ways which Nature alone can favor a 
section of the earth as California. Grandeur, 
beauty, productiveness, matchless climate, all are 
hers, and more. A country, however, may have all 
these and kindred virtues and still lack that subtle 
influence so attractive to visitor and resident. 

This indefinable and fascinating atmosphere is 
here native to the soil, only enhanced in an unmeas- 
ured degree by the historic epochs through which the 
State has passed. Containing, as California does, 
about the only ruins of large moment in the United 
States that were the works of other than the pre- 
historic aborigines, it challenges the interest of student 
and tourist yearly aside from the sublimity of its 
landscapes. 

The story of the Mission Fathers and of the 
founding, prosperity and passing of their pioneer 
sanctuaries is a romance in history. There is nothing 
like it in the records of any other country or any 
other age. It stands alone, uniquely beautiful and 
ever attractive. % 

The history of California practically had its begin- 
nings with the advent of the Franciscans, under the 
able leadership of the saintly Father Junipero Serra. 


This era is a poem in the heroic narrative of western 
conquest. Sectarian prejudice is lost in admiration 
for the ideals of the Mission Fathers and the quaint 
and simple life of the Mission days. 

This life is a permanent contribution to the litera- 
ture of the world, and the poet, painter and novelist 
find in its varied phases an inexhaustible mine of 
themes. The rising of new generations in the Golden 
State and the ever-increasing travel to the California 
coast further afford a great incentive to the repeated 
portrayal of these enchanting times. 

Many books give the history of the Mission 
period, and a few endeavor to present its delightful 
atmosphere. To the latter class this little work 
belongs, written after long study of the Spanish- 
Americans and many years residence in the State. 
It is sent forth in the hope that others will also 
become interested in this beautiful pastoral life, which 
ever has been and ever shall be something to be 
lived, loved and dreamed about — the Mission Days 
of Alta California. 


The Author. 


CONTENTS 


I 

The Warning Bells of La Purisima, 

PAGE 

9 

II 

The Old Senora, .... 

19 

III 

The Tragedy at the Old Mill, 

49 

IV 

At the Shrine of San Antonio de Pala, 

63 

V 

The Mystery of La Soledad, 

79 

VI 

The Chapel Ruins, .... 

101 

VII 

Sister Dolores, ..... 

”3 

VIII 

The Wedding Ring, .... 

121 

IX 

The Angels’ Promise, 

185 

X 

A Romance of San Juan Capistrano, . 

189 

XI 

Bartolo’s Return, .... 

219 

XII 

The Dream Child’s Prophecy, . 

227 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Mission San Louis Rey de Francia, 

Frontispiece 

Mission La Purisima Concepcion, 

IO 

Mission Santa Barbara, 

34 

The Old Mill, San Gabriel, Cal., 

50 

Lake near the Old Mill, 

60 

Mission San Antonio de Pala, 

74 

Mission San Miguel, .... 

84 

Mission Santa Yn6z, .... 

106 

Mission San Carlos Borromeo, 

1 16 

Mission San Diego de Alcala, 

122 

Mission San Buenaventura, 

186 

Mission San Juan Capistrano, 

190 

Mission San Gabriel Arcangel, 

222 

Mission San Fernando Rey de Espafia, 

228 


THE WARNING BELLS OF 
LA PURISIMA 


VESPER BELLS AT 
SAN CARLOS DEL CAR MEL O 


When deeper shadows of the night o' er take 
In silent way the early evening hour. 

Then soft and low the silver bells forsake 
Their quiet vigil in the mission tower : 

In rhythmic measure sound the silvery notes 
As o'er the peaceful valley they vibrate ; — 

How tuneful sweet the holy music floats , — 

While drowsy doves in sudden flight gyrate. 

So in such twilights oft I take my way , 

To pray at Vespers in the place where dwells 
An absolution for our sins of day; 

What consolation ' neath those saintly bells ; 

And at my death I ask no greater boon , 

Than pass away as floats their sacred tune. 

— “ Father Juniper o Serra” Act //, Scene II. 


THE WARNING BELLS OF 
LA PURISIMA 


S OME time before the decree of secularization 
had gone forth, and before the rumor reached 
California that the Missions were to be secularized, 
Padre Mariano Payeras, the Franciscan president, 
then serving at the Mission of La Purisima Con- 
cepcion, was warned in a dream of a great calamity 
about to befall those pioneer sanctuaries. 

In the Padre’s vision there passed in review 
before him, the picture of the gradual decay of 
those holy temples. He dreamed the warning 
note of their coming doom would be heralded far 
and wide by the mission bells ringing out the sad 
tidings at the hour of midnight. In this dream, 
which warned him that secularization would be 
established, and with that advent, the slow but 
sure decline of those prosperous shrines of wor- 
ship, he saw the loving attempts of the converts 
to stay the march of decay, as each faithful soul 
stretched forth his feeble hands in efforts that 
were powerless against the blighting effects of the 
change. 

He saw the ruined walls and altars, the broken 
images of beloved saints, and the dwindling away 
of the neophytes, when they came at last to believe 


(i) 


9 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


that evil spirits were hastening the terrible work 
of destruction. He saw the pictures of desolation, 
misery, and want among the padres who starved 
in their cells that food might be saved for the fam- 
ished children of converted Indians. At last the 
scene of utter ruin was made complete by the 
passing away of the Franciscan. 

With terror Padre Payeras awoke and reviewed 
this warning dream. So great a power for evil as 
secularization he knew he was not able to cope 
with ; he could only watch and pray. Difficulties 
almost unheard of, he and his band of Indians had 
surmounted in building and rebuilding La Purisima. 
Undismayed by the earthquakes and floods which 
had wrecked their first efforts, they had hopefully 
reproduced and dedicated Purisima anew, the sanct- 
uary in which they now worshipped. 

Of all the missions, Padre Payeras most loved 
La Purisima. With his own hands he helped to 
build her walls and by his kindly ministrations 
helped to civilize and baptize her savages. And 
he had hoped and prayed that his life might be 
spared many years to convert more souls to his 
blessed faith. 

No sweeter bells ere rung from mission towers 
than were to be heard from the arches of La 
Purisima. Their purity of tone was the padre’s 
pride and joy, and their heavenly music found a 
responsive chord in the heart of the holy man. 
That peace and prosperity followed wherever the 

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THE WARNING BELLS OF LA PURISIMA 


padres planted the sacred cross, was proven by the 
flourishing village of converted Indians, living in 
contentment on the banks of the beautiful Santa 
Ynez River. To the consecrated the bells wafted 
a blessing in their call to evening prayer, and 
whether rung in joy or sorrow the voices of La 
Purisima’s bells were understood by all. But now 
the certainty of coming danger, more devastating 
than the earthquakes, more ruinous than the floods, 
appalled the heart of Padre Payeras ; and he prayed 
that the danger might pass them by, while hourly 
expecting the warning notes to fall. Long after 
his assistants had sought repose did the bowed form 
of the priest kneel at the foot of the cross as he 
implored the saints to protect the shrines that bore 
their names. Night after night he walked back 
and forth over the tiled floor of the gloomy corri- 
dor, while the wind, with its icy chillness, swept 
past the bent figure now suddenly grown old with 
grief. At times he walked to the sacred bells, 
hanging in their niches, and placing his hands on 
the cold metal, lovingly caressed them. To him 
they were instinct with life, and understood the sad 
office they were called to perform. Padre Payeras 
soon grew seriously ill from exposure and suffering, 
yet he kept within his own breast the knowledge 
that a blow was about to fall, which would forever 
crush out of existence their beautiful pastoral life. 

Continuing his watching and praying, he sud- 
denly started one night and straightened his bowed 


ii 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


form as he halted in the black shadows of the cor- 
ridor. Then he listened with straining ears to the 
faint sound of a bell, which he fancied he heard in 
the distance. Surely he must be dreaming again, 
or his imagination was overwrought, for those sol- 
emn tones came not from the bells of La Purisima, 
but rather from the bells of Mission Santa Barbara. 
Not alone was the padre familiar with the bells of 
Santa Barbara, he knew by heart the tones of every 
bell from San Diego to San Francisco Bay. In 
another moment there pealed forth answering 
sounds from the far north ; they were from the 
bells of Carmelo and La Soledad ; and now, near 
at hand, was heard the bells from the neighboring 
missions, Santa Ynez and San Miguel. Again 
from the north came the blended sounds from the 
bells of San Jose and San Juan Bautista, and 
clearly distinguished from them were the silvery 
chimes of San Antonio de Padua and San Louis 
Obispo. Then solemnly chimed the bells of San 
Louis Rey and San Antonia de Pala, joined with 
those of San Gabriel and San Fernando Rey. 
Another and yet another chime of bells were rung 
until the padre had counted the full number of his 
beloved missions. Still the bells of La Purisima 
hung silent in their arches. At last, as if reluctant 
to announce to the padre that the warning foretold 
in his dream was fulfilled, Purisima’ s bells slowly 
broke the silence that reigned under the tiled roof 
of the mission, and moved by invisible hands, sent 


12 


THE WARNING BELLS OF LA PURISIMA 


forth on the midnight air music that sobbed and 
moaned like human voices, starting the inmates 
from their slumbers in alarm and filling them with 
superstitious fear of evil tidings. 

To the padre, standing immovable as the statue 
of a saint, the chorus of bells blending together in 
harmony was the grandest, the most awe-inspiring 
sound he had ever heard. It was a solemn 
requiem mass,' chimed over the dead hopes of the 
Franciscan monk. Aroused by the continued 
ringing of Purisima’s bells, the more venturesome 
assistants of Padre Payeras hastened to learn the 
cause of the disturbance ; only to find his appar- 
ently lifeless form on the cold, damp floor of the 
corridor. It was many hours ere the stricken 
padre regained voice and told the sad story of the 
missions’ doom, now confirmed by the warning 
bells of La Purisima. From that time age rapidly 
overtook the holy man ; broken in health and 
spirits, he never recovered from the shock he 
received on that fatal night while waiting for the 
warning voices of the mission bells. 

He did not live to see secularization established 
and the beginning of the general ruin, for he died 
a few months later of a broken heart. Aged with 
toil and sorrow, but not with years, Padre Payeras 
could not live to see his labor of love so ruthlessly 
destroyed by vandal hands. His last request, that 
his remains lie buried within the sacred enclosure 
of the church, was granted, and there, beneath the 


13 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


altar where he so often knelt in prayer, he sleeps. 
Above his grave La Purisima’s bells solemnly 
tolled a requiem for his eternal rest. 

Time, never halting in her work of destruction, 
has woven many changes about this hallowed spot, 
till now, shorn of all resemblance to the once pros- 
perous shrine, the ruins of La Purisima Concepcion 
alone remain to tell its sorrowful history. 

With bowed heads we reverently stand before 
these sacred monuments, that so mutely tell to us 
the story of the past. We listen to the wind, sigh- 
ing through the trees, and fancy its singing is for 
the repose of the souls of the grand old padres, 
whose ashes now mingle with the dust from the 
crumbling walls. We note that the grasses and 
poppies, swaying in the soft air, seemingly droop 
their heads in sadness as the passing breeze moans 
through the ruined corridors and sacred temples of 
the dead. Then, as the shadows of night approach, 
and the bells call the faithful to evening prayer, we, 
in imagination, bring to the places the people and 
scenes of long ago, and with the vesper music ring- 
ing in our ears, for a brief time we live with them 
the ideal life of the early mission days. 

Slowly the pictures of pastoral life dissolve, and 
dimly, through the wreaths of fog, which hang like 
a cold, gray web over the ruins, we again behold 
the revered sanctuaries in all their desolation. The 
shattered altars and broken tiles are mute witnesses 
of the destructive elements, time and neglect. Let 


i4 


THE WARNING BELLS OF LA PURISIMA 


poets sing of their vanished glories while yet a 
vestige of their once stately beauty remains. 
Immortalized in prose and idealized in song, these 
memorials left by time to remind us of the Fran- 
ciscan epoch in California, will live in memory 
when their walls are crumbled to dust and returned 
to the bosom of Mother Earth, from which they 
sprung. 



THE OLD SENORA 





THE PADRES 

Those who attend immunity from care. 

Should on the Mission Fathers * lives reflect ; 

They , subjects of a fleeting time's impair. 

Left lessons which too many oft neglect. 

Along the coast and on the desert waste 

They toiled, with true religious zeal their thought ; 

For martyr here and there a cross was placed. 

Those deaths they envied, those the crowns they sought. 
None asked their help and found that help refused ; 

His race, his caste , his creed, barred not their door. 

The path to which the rich and humble used. 

Some sorrow to relieve, some hope restore. 

Few lives can show a more exalted state ; 

Their virtues no brief proem can relate. 

— “ Father Junipero Serra ,” Prologue. 


THE OLD SENORA 


HE old Spanish adobe house stood far back 



X from . the road, on quite a rise of ground, 
overlooking the sea on one side and giving a fine 
view of Mission Santa Barbara with its background 
of mountains on the other. Broad verandas entirely 
surrounded the house, and the sloping roof of tiles 
covered them on all sides, making the rooms quite 
dark and gloomy ; but what mattered that when 
they were used only for sleeping places ? In pleas- 
ant weather, life went on pretty much out of doors, 
and when it was cold or rainy the big, open fire- 
places were filled with logs, which crackled and 
blazed and lighted up all the dark corners in a 
most cheerful way. 

It was hard to say which season was enjoyed the 
most there, for it was a very jolly party that had 
taken possession of the ancient adobe, and all sea- 
sons were alike to them. The house had been 
built for over a hundred years, and was still in 
almost as good condition as when first erected, 
though darkened by age and stained by the storms 
of many winters. Hernando, the Spanish Don 
who built the place, laid out the grounds and 
planted the trees, was a man of great wealth and 
influence, and no money was spared to make it one 
of the finest estates on the coast. 


19 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


On each side of the wide avenue leading from 
the main road were rows of olive trees now moss- 
grown and looking as though they had quite out- 
lived their usefulness. Many other fruit and 
ornamental trees in the spacious grounds served to 
show, even in its neglected state, a most beautiful 
spot. Climbing roses and other vines, as aged and 
quite in keeping with the ancient appearance of the 
place, were gnarled and twisted out of all shape in 
their efforts to still cling to the supports of the 
veranda as to an old friend, and the net-work of 
roses and vines made a fine screen, through which 
the sun shone in softened light. How perfect the 
place must have been in all its cultivated beauty 
could still be seen in the tangled wildness of its 
uncultivated growth. Each generation from the 
Don down to the present time, had evidently taken 
less and less interest in the place, or perhaps it 
was the lack of money to keep it up. This is more 
than likely, as we find most of the descendants of 
the grandees of those days now quite poor. How- 
ever, at the present time the hacienda was tenanted 
by the last and only living descendant of the first 
Don and also by people far removed from him in 
blood and country, and yet no party could have 
occupied the mansion and appreciated it more than 
did this little family from New England. 

It all came about in this way, and it seemed 
somehow as if destiny, Providence or whatever you 
choose to call it, had a hand in bringing this last 


20 


THE OLD SEftORA 


descendant of Don Hernando to live for a while in 
the ancestral home. 

But to properly introduce the Senora we will 
have to go back to the Don’s time. The daughter 
and only child of the old Don who settled near 
Santa Barbara and erected the adobe mansion, hacl 
outlived all but one of her descendants. The 
young girl now occupying the house with her 
friends was the last living representative, and this 
was her first visit to the home of her ancestors. 
All the other members of the family had been born 
in the old home, excepting Anita, who claimed 
cold New England for her birth place. Twenty 
years before our story opens, the Senora Gonzaga 
lived with her great-granddaughter and two Mex- 
ican serving women, in the house in which she was 
born, and in which she was likely to die. The 
Senora had almost reached her ninety-ninth year 
and was apparently as well able to attend to her 
affairs as she had been twenty years before ; and 
to say she looked after them with sharp eyes would 
but half tell the story. 

Money was not as plentiful as in her father’s 
time, still the Senora managed to keep up quite a 
style of living, and when she rode out in state, as 
she often did, with her beautiful great-grand- 
daughter, no more aristocratic old dame was to 
be seen in all the country around. The old lady 
had been a great beauty and belle in her day. 
She had received her education in Spain, and 


21 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


after being presented at court, had traveled exten- 
sively with her father. Her marriage into an 
old Spanish family in Madrid did not bring her 
much money, but what of that ? Her father had 
enough. 

The Don died soon after the marriage of his 
daughter and left her his vast wealth, only request- 
ing that she return to the home of her childhood. 
So, with her husband, she returned to California, 
bringing the remains of her father, who wished to 
rest in the mission cemetery by the side of his wife. 
The Senora and her husband little knew the value 
of money and their style of living and entertaining, 
which was spoken of as almost princely, soon 
exhausted the income from the Don’s many pos- 
sessions. The Senora’s husband, Don Ferdinand 
Gonzaga, did not live to see his son and only child 
grow to manhood, but died when his heir was still 
quite a lad. From then on the Senora lived for 
her son. Her expenses were reduced, but every 
advantage of education was given the boy, besides 
several years of travel and life in his father’s 
country. The Senora, in the meantime, turned 
her attention to money-making by overseeing her 
many olive orchards, which had been neglected 
since her father’s death. Her hard work and close 
attention to business soon proved how capable the 
still beautiful Senora was as a business woman. 
As a result, money was quite abundant and the 
house began to take on a more prosperous look as 


22 


THE OLD SEftORA 


great preparations were being made for the return 
of the son and heir from abroad. 

Don Hernando Gonzaga, named for his grand- 
father, was a handsome and polished young man 
and fully justified all his mother’s pride in him, 
and there were great doings, feasting, dancing and 
entertainments without number in the old mansion 
and in the homes of the neighboring grandees, in 
honor of the return of the young Don. His mother 
was well content to give the control of her estate 
in his keeping, and sit back and enjoy seeing him 
master. The feasting and gaiety continued several 
months, for on his return the young Don had fallen 
in love with and married the beautiful orphan 
niece of the Governor of California. She brought 
a small fortune with her, and together their income 
was sufficient for the regal style of living of Don 
Hernando’s youth. 

Unfortunately the young Don had no head for 
business, and after a few years the Senora Gonzaga 
found things in much the same shape as at the time 
of her husband’s death, if not worse. Now some of 
her valuable lands and orchards had to be sold to 
pay the numberless debts which had accumulated. 
And as misfortunes never come singly, Don Her- 
nando’s wife died of a lingering fever, leaving her 
husband almost crazed with grief ; and neither his 
mother nor his seven-year-old daughter were able 
to comfort the heart-broken man. Don Hernando 
never recovered from the blow and only survived 


23 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


his wife a year. A year full of sorrow for his 
mother, as she saw him fade before her eyes, and 
knew nothing she could do would interest him in 
life again. 

Again the Senora Gonzaga was left alone in the 
house with a decayed fortune and a young child to 
keep her company. She was still a beautiful 
woman with all her old charm of manner and love 
for society, but again must she strive and labor for 
another child — her grandchild. And faithful to 
her duty, the Senora took up her work as before, 
but it was plain to be seen, not with the same 
heart, though not a word of regret for her lost for- 
tune did any one hear her utter. Her grandchild 
was her constant companion ; in fact, so much she 
desired the child with her that she employed 
teachers and had her taught at home, instead of 
sending her to the convent. The child grew into 
a lovely girl, and while she had many companions 
of her own age, she never seemed as happy as 
when in the society of her grandmother, whom she 
truly loved and admired, and it was evident to 
every one that the Senora was bound up in the 
love of Perdita, as she was called. It was often 
remarked that the Senora had been proud of her 
son but loved her granddaughter. 

At seventeen Perdita married the son of their 
nearest neighbor and the Senora’s best friend ; the 
Senora exacting a promise that they should live on 
the old homestead with her. Several happy years 


24 


THE OLD SEftORA 


went by. The Senora managed her. place and did 
well, but not sufficiently so to warrant their former 
style of living, and it was doubtful if she cared for 
society as of yore. Her granddaughter and hus- 
band had no desire for great display, and were 
content to live a more quiet life. Their ambition 
was to travel, and they had long talked of a voyage 
to the old world, but could not make up their 
minds to leave their grandmother, and the grand- 
mother did not wish to make the journey ; so, after 
thinking it over, they agreed to go and leave Collita, 
their little daughter of nine years, as company for 
her great-grandmother — and it was well they did, 
or the Senora Gonzaga would have died the last of 
her line. 

After a year spent in travel abroad, her grand- 
child and husband took passage on a ship for home, 
joyfully hoping soon to see their child and grand- 
mother. But misfortune followed them on their 
return, and they, with most of the passengers, 
were drowned in a wreck of the ship. The sad 
news almost killed the Senora, and she was never 
after the same ; her heart was broken, and she 
went about sad and lonely, not even caring for the 
love of her great-granddaughter. She had been 
heard to say that she would never place her affec- 
tions on any one again, but would do her duty by 
the child, who, by the way, was not like her mother 
in having a loving disposition, but was inclined to be 
exceedingly headstrong. The Senora was growing 


25 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


old and had not the patience of her younger 
years, and with a wilful great-granddaughter peace 
could not always reign. So the child was sent to 
the convent, to be trained by the good Sisters, 
while the Senora led a quiet life attending to 
business, as was her habit, and getting consolation 
for her sorrow by constant prayer and devotion to 
her Church. 

Several years went by. The old Senora, as she 
was now called, had disposed of all her land but 
the part surrounding her home. She said she was 
growing too aged to work, and did not want the 
care of so much property. How she invested her 
money no one knew, for the Senora was not one 
to gratify idle curiosity. Some said she had given 
it to the Church, and others that she had hidden it 
away from her great-granddaughter, whom she did 
not love. Though she may not have loved her, 
Collita had many advantages that wealth could 
give, for the Senora spent her money as freely for 
this child as she had done for the others. She 
was a bright and lively girl, with plenty of dash 
and spirit, much as the Senora was in her youth, 
it was hinted; but the will of the Senora was 
never crossed, for she had a most indulgent father 
and husband. But with Collita things were differ- 
ent, and on her few visits at home she had found 
the house dull and gloomy, and the Senora not 
inclined to indulge her. So the prospect of a 
home with her ancient relative was not looked 


26 


THE OLD SEftORA 


forward to with much pleasure, and * being of so 
independent a nature, Collita began to cast about in 
her mind how she could make life more agreeable 
than it would be with her great-grandmother and 
the old serving woman. 

“ Not a very bright prospect, but I must change 
it somehow,” she laughingly used to say. If the 
Senora could have seen anything she would have 
known that this child was the most beautiful one 
of all the Don’s descendants, not even excepting 
herself when she reigned as queen of all the young 
girls. Collita, well contented, felt perfectly able 
to take care of herself, and when she was invited 
by one of her schoolmates, at the close of her 
school life, to spend a few months with her in Los 
Angeles, she accepted without consulting her great- 
grandmother. The Senora made no protest, but 
seemed willing to have the house to herself a few 
months longer, so Collita went with her friend 
without a thought of what the result would be. 

After a three months’ visit she returned and 
took up her life quietly with the Senora, seeing 
very little company, but driving about with her 
great-grandmother, and showing her more attention 
than she had ever done before. 

In time the Senora’s heart quite warmed toward 
Collita, when she found her so thoughtful of her 
comfort, and so little inclined to fill the house with 
mirth and dancing, for which the Senora had no 
interest in her old age. 


27 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


But the sequel to Collita’s indifference to society 
was soon shown. The friends she had visited in 
Los Angeles came for a return visit ; and with 
them came a dashing young military officer, who 
was on leave of absence from his regiment, sta- 
tioned at New York. It was soon quite plainly 
observed that he had Collita’s heart in his keeping. 
He stopped in the neighborhood of the Senora’ s 
mansion, but each day found him in her home. 
The old lady was too much absorbed in her Church 
to notice the young people, so they walked and 
drove and spent hours sailing about on the calm 
Pacific, but before the Senora realized that a love 
affair had been going on under her eyes, young 
Captain Brentwood proposed for the hand of 
Collita. Then did the old Senora wake up with a 
vengeance. Never should Collita, with her con- 
sent, give her hand to a Protestant and an enemy 
of her people. The blood of the Spanish aristoc- 
racy must not be defiled by a marriage with a 
plebian Americano. Never would she give her 
consent. 

Collita well knew there was no appeal from this 
decision, and as Captain Brentwood’s leave of 
absence was almost over, the young people quietly 
took the matter into their own hands, and on one 
of their horseback rides were married by a parish 
priest, in one of the neighboring towns. When, 
on her return, she informed the Senora of what 
she had done, the old lady sat as if turned to stone ; 


28 


THE OLD SEftORA 


then, rising in all her majesty, she denounced the 
girl for her disobedience, and bade her leave the 
house and never return. So, when, a few days 
later, Captain Brentwood took the steamer for 
New York, his young bride went with him, glad, 
as she said, to shake off the gloom of the old 
home, where there had been so much more trouble 
than happiness. “The place will come to me 
some day,” she said, “ then I will sell it, for it has 
brought ill-luck to all its possessors.” But cold 
New England proved no friend to this daughter of 
a sunny clime, and after six years of happy married 
life, Collita drooped and died, like a beautiful hot- 
house flower, exposed to an icy blast. 

Her letters, asking forgiveness of the Senora, 
had never been answered ; but Collita wrote one 
more when she found she could not live, and told 
her great-grandmother of her little daughter, now 
five years old, to whom she had given the Senora’s 
name ; but no answer ever came from the Senora. 
She had, as it were, put Collita out of her life, and 
though fate willed she should outlive her great- 
grandchild by some years, she died at last, without 
taking notice of her namesake, the little great- 
great-granddaughter. 

It was by accident that Anita’s uncle saw men- 
tion of her aged relative’s death, and the account 
of the funeral, which was the largest ever known 
in that part of the country. The Senora’s great 
age and her remarkable life brought friends and 


29 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


acquaintances from far and near to attend the 
burial. Her death was as exceptional as her life. 
She had gone to her room one evening, feeling as 
well as usual, and when her serving-woman went 
to speak with her a short time after, she found her 
sitting in her chair by the window, dead. 

Captain Brentwood did not long survive his wife, 
to whom he was deeply attached, and when he died 
he left his little daughter, Anita, to the care of his 
sister, with whom she had lived since her mother’s 
death. After learning of the Senora’s death, 
Anita’s uncle, in the interest of his niece, came to 
California to look after the property left by the 
Senora ; but nothing more than the old homestead 
was to be found. Every scrap of paper or clue to 
any money she might have left had been destroyed 
by the Senora. The Senora’s only attendant, in 
the last year of her life, could not or would not 
give him any information. It looked as if the 
Senora, believing she was the last of the old and 
aristocratic line, wanted all relating to her family 
to die with her. Leaving the servant in charge of 
the house, Anita’s uncle returned, disappointed in 
not finding other property for his niece, besides 
the ancient place. 

Anita Brentwood, heiress to the old home of her 
ancestors, was still a member of her aunt’s family, 
and shared with her cousins the love of her uncle 
and aunt. At the time this story opens, Anita, 
now eighteen years of age, was a most beautiful 


30 


THE OLD S E ft O RA 


and accomplished girl. In her aunt’s family, 
among her light-haired and blue-eyed cousins, 
Anita was a startling picture, with her dark Span- 
ish beauty, and her moods were quite as startling 
as her looks. At times the uncontrolled and reck- 
less desire to break away from all restraint took 
possession of her. It was the same spirit of rebel- 
lion that had characterized Collita, and led her to 
defy her great-grandmother. When in this mood 
Anita would saddle her horse, and on his back she 
would dash over the country at break-neck speed, 
till horse and rider were ready to drop with fatigue. 
“ It is the only way I can get relief from the 
uneasy spirit that possesses me,” she would say. 
“Only let me subdue the Spanish in me, Aunt, 
then I am your New England girl till the spell 
comes again.” She was full of romantic notions, 
and had a wild desire to visit the home of her 
ancestors. She said a strange and unaccountable 
feeling dominated her at times and urged her to 
make the visit without delay. M And then, Aunt, 
I lose all control over myself and rebel against the 
fate that keeps me here.” 

For hours she would sit dreaming and weaving 
fanciful pictures of the old house and the old 
Senora. So when the doctor proposed a change 
for her aunt, and mentioned California, Anita was 
transported with delight. She would now see the 
Spanish house where the grandees of early Califor- 
nia had revelled in the pleasures and sympathized 


3i 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


in the troubles of the Senora, and perhaps there 
were some yet living who had known the old lady 
when she was in her prime. Anita had been 
taught to speak the language of Spain, so she felt 
qualified to talk with some of the Spanish people 
yet remaining who had known her mother and 
great-great-grandmother. 

On her arrival with her aunt and cousins, she 
found the adobe mansion had been closed for years, 
and moths, dust and dampness had quite ruined 
most of the old furniture, but every piece was 
precious to Anita, and must be saved at any cost ; 
so with her own hands she patiently cleaned and 
mended much of what seemed at first past saving. 
Then she chose the Senora’s room for her own, 
and to it removed all the pieces of furniture that 
appeared to her as being those once used by the 
Senora. For comfort, her aunt invested in some 
more modern furniture, and they settled down for 
a long sojourn. The fires were never permitted to 
quite die out, so the place always had a cheerful 
appearance, and in the chilly evenings and morn- 
ings, around the great hearth, they discussed over 
and over again the long and eventful life of the old 
Senora, and her bitter revenge in destroying or 
hiding all family papers. 

“ I am powerfully impressed with the belief that 
my great-great-grandmother has secreted things of 
value in or about this old adobe, and I cannot rest 
till I find them,” said Anita, as she sat before the 


32 


THE OLD SEftORA 


fire one rainy evening, in what she chose to call 
the Senora’s favorite chair. “ If there is anything 
in spirits returning to this world, to commune with 
the living, I mean to call her’s to me. Something 
draws me nearer to this place each day ; I love it 
for itself, and I love it for the associations, the 
mystery, the romance which hallows it ; and when 
I think of that grand old Senora, who so bravely 
lived a life of constant disappointment and trouble, 
I love her, too. How lonely her last days must 
have been. I do not think she did right in ban- 
ishing mamma, and yet, she must have felt justi- 
fied, for she was a good woman. I never go in 
her room, the room where she died, that I do not 
feel her presence, and the sensation is peculiar, not 
quite friendly, and not altogether unfriendly ; but 
I mean to make her love me yet.” 

“ My dear, I hope you are not growing morbid 
over the secrets of this old house,” said her aunt ; 
“you would better let such fancies alone, and enjoy 
life with your cousins.” 

“ But do I not, Aunt ? When did I ever have 
such a glorious time as now ? How we did ride 
to-day, and my horse shot ahead of all the rest, 
and never stopped till he landed me in the grounds 
of the mission, and when the others rode up, I was 
looking at them from one of the mission towers ! 
Then we wandered over the church and through 
the cemetery, and I visited the graves of my ances- 
tors, and the monument that was erected to the 


(3) 


33 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


memory of my grandfather and grandmother, who 
were lost at sea. How sad that all my ancestors 
but the Senora should die so young I I wonder 
shall I ? Perhaps not. I have her name, besides 
all the old people here say I am the Senora’s 
youthful image, and I hope to live as long as 
she did. Only think, Aunt, one old, old, Mexican 
woman crossed herself and exclaimed, ‘the Senora!’ 
when she saw me coming from the church to-day. 
I wonder if she thought T was her ghost ? ” said 
Anita, earnestly. 

“ I see it is useless, my dear, to remonstrate with 
you,” said her aunt, with an amused look, “for all 
subjects that we start end with the one most 
interesting to you, namely : your ancestors.” 

Anita laughed and then sat silently watching 
the fire, her great velvety black eyes seeing pictures 
in the coals, of the splendor in which the Senora 
once lived, and thinking dreamily of the time when 
her own mother sat in the same chair and looked 
in the same old fireplace, and dreamed of her 
betrothed, her handsome soldier lover, for whom 
she was willing to forsake home and country and 
her only living relation. 

“ I wonder who will come to woo me ? ” she 
thought. “ How much I should love to have one 
of those dashing Spanish cavaliers of * the olden 
times ’ step from out the past and in his courtly 
way kneel at my feet and offer me his heart and 
fortune. But,” arousing herself, “ I must not 

34 







MISSION SANTA BARBARA 












































































THE OLD SEftORA 


dream so much of my mother’s people. I am only 
half Spanish, and am also an unwelcome visitor in 
the home of my Spanish ancestor, who would not 
have me come here in her life-time, and manifests 
her dislike of me now by witholding the secret 
hiding-place of the family heirlooms, for there were 
many treasures ; I remember having heard my 
mother say, jewelry, diamonds, silver plate, beauti- 
ful miniatures of the family painted on ivory and 
documents and letters of several generations, which 
would be most interesting to me, could I but see 
them.” 

At her aunt’s and cousin’s request, Anita took 
her guitar, and softly touching the strings, sang for 
them the musical melodies of Spain. Her sweet 
voice was just suited to the plaintive airs she chose, 
and as she sang on and on, as if lost to all her sur- 
roundings, she made a most lovely picture, with 
the fire-light shining on her beautiful face and soft, 
dark hair. The picturesque old room never seemed 
more enchanting than on this night, with the cheer- 
ful glow from the fire lighting up all the dark cor- 
ners and casting subdued shadows with softening 
effect on the rough places, and beautifying anew 
the antique furniture. 

“ Surely,” thought her aunt, “ could the Senora 
see her last descendant now, and know how thor- 
oughly Anita is in harmony with the place and 
people, she must relent and come to her, if such a 
thing were possible.” 


35 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


That night, for the first time, Anita dreamed the 
Senora appeared to her, holding a crucifix in her 
hand, but when she eagerly reached forth her hand 
to welcome her, the Senora slowly faded from sight, 
and nothing remained but a white cloud, which 
settled over the chair by the window. The dream 
was so vivid that Anita felt convinced she was not 
sleeping, but that she had really received a visit 
from the old Senora. She was nervously excited 
all the next day, and told her aunt she knew some- 
thing more would happen before long to confirm 
her belief. 

Her aunt and cousins tried to laugh her fanciful 
visions away, but the dream had made too strong 
an impression on the romantic girl for them to 
shake her faith in it. 

The three following nights Anita dreamed the 
same dream. She saw the Senora each time 
with the crucifix in her hand, and saw her 
again disappear, as she neared the chair by the 
window. 

Anita’s imagination had now reached such a state 
that her aunt had fears for her health and urged 
her not to sleep in the Seiiora’s room, but if she 
would do so, to let her cousin, Lucy, share it with 
her. But Anita said she was not nervous and 
would rather stay alone. She was satisfied, she 
said, that she had not been sleeping and dreamed 
of the Senora’s visits, and to prove it she would sit 
up all night and sleep by day. 

36 


THE OLD SENORA 


But nothing came of her watching ; she neither 
saw nor dreamed anything more of the Senora for 
several nights. But her faith was unshaken in the 
belief that she would appear in a short time, so she 
was not discouraged. 

At last, one night when the moon was shining, 
and her room as light as day, the Senora came 
again to visit her old home. Anita was sitting by 
the bed, partly resting herself against the pillows, 
but under the influence of the strange spell which 
deepened the intensity of her desire to meet her 
great-great-grandmother, she had lost all control 
over her own movements for the time being. It 
was, as she afterwards said, as if her spirit had 
separated from her body and gone in quest of the 
Senora’s, impelled to do so by an attraction so 
strange, so marvelous and so foreign to any sensa- 
tion she had ever felt before, that she could not 
account for it. 

Such a dazzling light came across her eyes that 
she closed them for a moment, but ere she opened 
them she knew that the old Senora was in the room 
with her. She first saw her sitting in a chair by 
the window as if asleep ; then she arose and 
walked about the room until she reached the chair. 
This time she pointed towards the corner near 
the window, again, she moved about, stopping as 
before near the chair and pointing downwards. 
For the third time she traversed the room, repeat- 
ing the same motions, then she sank into the chair 


37 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


and closed her eyes as if sleeping. For a few 
moments she sat thus, then once more arose and 
slowly moved in the direction of the bed where 
Anita reclined, until she stood close to her. Three 
times she made the sign of the cross and kissed a 
small crucifix which she held in her hand, finally 
moving towards the chair, she gradually faded from 
sight. Again came the dazzling light which caused 
Anita to close her eyes, but when she opened them 
a moment after, she was alone in her room, with 
the silvery moonlight shining all about her, and on 
the pillow where she reclined there was a small 
ivory crucifix, curiously carved and yellow with age. 
That it was left by the Senora as a token of her 
love and forgiveness, she felt willing to believe, 
after having had such proof as she had witnessed. 

Anita, confident now of a perfect understanding 
between herself and her aged relative, and sure of 
finding the treasures on the morrow, went to bed 
and slept peacefully till late the next day. After 
breakfast she astonished her aunt by telling of her 
night’s experience, showing her the cross, and then 
proposing to have the corner of the floor indicated 
by the old Senora, torn up. 

“My child, have you taken leave of your 
senses ? ” her aunt exclaimed. “ You are really 
carrying this nonsense too far. Some one must 
have thrown the crucifix in your window, knowing 
you were brought up a Protestant — and all the 
rest you have dreamed.” 


38 


THE OLD SEftORA 


“ I know, Aunt/' said Anita, “ it seems very 
foolish to you, but it is very real to me, and I shall 
never be satisfied until the floor in the corner of 
the room by the window is removed.” 

“It is not removing the floor I object to, Anita. 
The house is yours, and you are of age, to do as 
you choose, but I fear for your health if you are 
disappointed. You are in such a state of excite- 
ment now that I hardly know you for my sensible 
New England girl.” 

“I shall never be a New England girl again, 
dear Aunt,” said Anita passionately. “ I am thor- 
oughly Spanish now, and have been since I entered 
this house. My New England blood and my Span- 
ish blood never would flow easily together, but were 
always at war, and I’ve lived in a state of torment 
with the two elements. It has been a process of 
heating and cooling in my different moods, as you 
know, Aunt, it was fire and ice, but the fire has 
melted the ice, and it will never cool again. I 
know where I belong now, the Spanish blood in 
me predominates, and I am a true descendant of 
the old Senora. Never mention to me again, dear 
Aunt, the story of the landing of my father’s Pil- 
grim ancestors on that bleak New England coast. 
The recital of their suffering from cold and hunger 
would make me shiver on the hottest day. I won- 
der my mother lived there as many years as she did. 
She must have loved my father very much to have 
been contented in his country. When I have found 


39 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


my buried treasures, Aunt, I will go to Spain and 
live ; live as I have never lived before. But come, 
Aunt, I am impatient to get some one to take up 
the floor, and I promise you if we find nothing 
there, to give up searching further and never will 
I believe in signs again.” 

A short time after this the family were all in the 
Senora’s room watching the Mexican Anita had 
engaged to remove the boards. It was no easy 
task he had on hand, for the boards were securely 
fastened down, but he worked with a will, wonder- 
ing the while what the young Senorita was having 
it done for. Various were the expressions on the 
faces of those who looked on. 

Anita, with most expectant gaze riveted on the 
floor, wasted no attention on any person in the 
room. It was a moment of too great importance 
for her to have a thought for other than the Seno- 
ra’s secret. She did not notice the amused look 
on the faces of her cousins, or the half pitying 
and sorrowful expression on the face of her aunt, 
who was ready with sympathy and comfort for 
Anita, in case of disappointment. 

No word was spoken as the first board was 
removed, and a second flooring discovered under- 
neath. The double floor looked suspicious, and 
wonder took the place of amusement on many 
faces. Two more boards were pried loose, and 
then the interest deepened as they saw that the 
second floor of smaller boards covered a wide 


40 


THE OLD SEftORA 


space. These, on being taken up, disclosed a 
cemented vault, which extended some distance 
under the house and was large enough to hold sev- 
eral good-sized trunks. At first there seemed 
nothing but darkness as they all eagerly peered 
down its depths, but when a light was brought and 
held over the place, it shone on an old chest of 
ponderous make, which was in the far corner of 
the vault. 

The Mexican had plenty of help now from 
Anita’s eager cousins, as they jumped into the 
vault to assist him to drag the great trunk to the 
light. 

“I say, Anita,” said her cousin Ralph, “you are 
a witch to have dreamed this all out, and I will 
never question your powers again, even though we 
find nothing but rubbish in this box. It is heavy 
enough, by the way, to be filled with gold,” said 
he, puffing and panting as he, *with his brother, 
dusty and covered with cob-webs, tugged and 
pulled at the old chest. 

Anita, the calmest one of the party, now that 
she felt the others were convinced she had made 
no mistake, looked on with a happy light in her 
beautiful dark eyes, which were seeing visions of 
the treasures the box contained. 

After much hard work, the chest was safely 
brought to the light, and left in the Senora’s room. 
Then the boards were replaced over the vault, 
which was never again to be used as a hiding place 


4i 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

for the Senora’s property. Anita now had the 
rusty lock broken and was soon ready to examine 
the contents. 

“ Come, children,” said her aunt, “ we will have 
no curiosity till Anita has first looked over her 
inheritance, then she will show us what she wishes 
us to see. I know she would choose to be alone 
now.” 

Anita thanked her aunt for her thoughtfulness 
and promised they should, in a short time, see all 
that the chest contained. 

“It is kind of you, Aunt, to suggest I should 
choose to be alone, for so I should. I shall feel 
the same reverence in opening this chest as I 
would in looking into the graves of my ancestors. 
I know every article in it has been placed there by 
the Senora, and I feel she will not be far distant 
while I am looking them over.” 

Left alone, Anita sank down by the chest, and 
with her ivory crucifix in her hand, breathed a 
prayer of thankfulness for the discovery. Then, 
reverently lifting the lid of the chest, she gazed 
with tearful eyes on this gift from the dead. The 
first thing she touched was a letter addressed to 
herself from the old Senora. It began : 

“To Anita Brentwood, my great-great-grand- 
daughter : 

Know when you have found our family treasures, 
that all is peace between us ; for nothing but your 
love for them and your love for the old home would 


42 


THE OLD SEfiORA 


have revealed to you their hiding place. You must 
be a true daughter of Spain to inherit my forgiveness. 

From your great-great-grandmother, 

Anita Gonzaga.” 

Enclosed with this letter was another saying if 
the box was not found by Anita Brentwood, but 
discovered by other than she, the contents of value 
were to be sold for the church, and all papers and 
letters destroyed. 

Again Anita bowed her head in thankfulness 
that she had been permitted to find and possess 
these precious relics of the Senora. 

Valuables untold were revealed to Anita, as she 
tenderly lifted each article out from its hiding 
place. Rich silks, laces, family jewels, portraits 
painted on ivory, and letters and numerous docu- 
ments were found. At the bottom of the box, 
beneath the family plate, which was a fortune 
in itself, Anita discovered enough Mexican gold to 
make her a rich woman. The jewels, of almost 
priceless value, sparkled as brilliantly as when 
worn by the Senora at the Court of Spain. Anita 
looked long and lovingly at a miniature of the 
Senora, painted when she was a young bride. 

“I believe I look like her,” she said. “I will 
see.” Clasping the diamond necklace about her 
beautiful white throat and fastening on the 
other jewels, she next twisted a lace scarf 
about her head, in imitation of the one in the 
painting, then glancing in the mirror she was 


43 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

surprised and delighted at her resemblance to the 
picture. 

“ I will be painted in her dress and jewels/* she 
thought, “and when I am an old Senora, I can be 
reminded of this fortunate event in my life.” 

Hours she lingered over these relics — time was 
forgotten, till her aunt’s knock reminded her that 
the day was almost gone and that she required 
rest and refreshments or she would be ill. 

Day after day found Anita still lingering over 
her great possessions, and each evening the family, 
sitting about the cheerful fire, marveled anew over 
the wonderful discovery. 

The Senora’s heart must have relented a short 
time after the death of Anita’s mother, and she 
evidently chose this singular way to prove Anita 
to be worthy of her race and Church. The graft- 
ing of the cold New England religion on the Span- 
ish stock was short lived, for Anita turned to the 
faith of her ancestors and proved in all things that 
she was a true Spanish maiden. Still her love for 
her aunt and cousins was not lessened, and when, 
a year later, she visited the older world, they went 
with her, and there, in old Madrid, she lived some- 
thing of the gay life of the Senora’s younger days. 

Anita never returned to this country, for the 
Spanish cavalier she used to dream about when 
sitting before the fire in the old house, came to 
woo her, and laid his heart and fortune at the feet 
of the beautiful girl. He won her consent to be 


44 


THE OLD SENORA 


his bride, and adopt his country, and there she 
made her home. And now no part of her life is 
so interesting to her children, and no story so 
eagerly asked for as the story of the nightly visits 
of the old Senora and the finding of the chest of 
treasures in the historic adobe, built by Don Her- 
nando. 

Longing at last to do what was right and yet 
unwilling that the mementos associated with her 
happier years should fall in unappreciative hands, 
the Senora felt, in preparing for the coming life, 
that she could not give up her hold on this until 
her mind was at rest. That her spirit hovered 
about the old house where she was born, and 
where she died, was proven by the mysterious 
power exerted over Anita, and controlling her 
movements until, through her, the Senora could 
make restitution for the one unkind act of her life. 
Grandly, beautifully, and with all her old-time dig- 
nity, she gave up the secret she had striven so 
hard to conceal. Impelled, as the young girl said, 
by the strange attraction of spirit to spirit, which 
was made so powerfully manifest whenever she 
entered the Senora’s room. And in regard to the 
ivory crucifix, Anita never doubted but that it was 
placed on her pillow by the old Senora. 


45 





THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


SAN GABRIEL 


Franciscan Fathers deemed the spot so fair 
They planted olives and the purple grape , 

And gentle , pastoral Indians gathered there 

To hear the lessons planned their souls to shape. 

The circling hedge of sharp-spined prickly pear 
Was barrier sure to all designing foe , 

But any friend who wished might enter there 
The willing hosts ’ sweet charity to know. 

The full-voiced chime that pealed the matin call 
And bade the toiler to the vesper chant 
Still hangs in arches of the ancient wall. 

But now its rhythmic tones are sadly scant , 

There spaces are like empty cloister cells , 

That echoed once the hallowed sound of bells. 

— L. Worthington Green in “ Overland Monthly." 


THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


I T happened many, many years ago, while this 
country was still new, and while the Francis- 
can friars were looking hopefully forward to the 
spreading of their blessed faith. Peace, plenty and 
religious zeal were then the results of the earnest 
working of friars and neophytes. 

The padre pioneers chose a lovely and wildly 
beautiful spot, in the picturesque and fertile valley 
of the San Gabriel to build their mill — a mill 
which stands to this day, a monument to the indus- 
try of the fathers and their civilized band of Indians. 

The thick walls of the old mill, the rude archi- 
tecture, ruder in finish, and unlike any other mill 
in fashion, takes the visitor to this interesting ruin 
back in imagination to the days of Spanish Califor- 
nia, and introduces him to the primitive methods 
of grinding wheat and corn in the early decades of 
the nineteenth century. 

During the peaceful reign of the padres, and at 
the height of the valley’s prosperity, there occurred 
a most dreadful tragedy in this historic mill. It 
was a crime which stained the waters of the spring 
flowing from under one corner of the building, red 
with innocent blood. It was a crime that left its 
imprint of misfortune for many years, blighting 
alike the place and people. 


( 4 ) 


49 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


This mill, which played so important a part in 
the valley’s history, did its share towards civilizing 
the savages. Curiosity to see the workings of such 
a wonderful structure, brought the untutored ones 
from far and near, but no sooner was their curiosity 
satisfied than they fell under the gentle sway of the 
holy fathers. Thus, in time, the entire work of 
the mill was done by Indian neophytes, under the 
instruction of Franciscan priests. 

Among a band of Indians which Father Antonio 
brought to the mission, was old Miguel and his son, 
Ricardo, half-breed Indians. Old Miguel’s mother 
had been a Mexican woman, and he in turn had 
married a Mexican wife. Ricardo, the only child, 
was a bright, manly boy, ten years old, when he 
came with his father to San Gabriel. Old Miguel 
was proud of his boy, and proud of the fathers’ 
interest in him. His intelligence and desire for 
knowledge, other than nature could teach him, 
often gave the fathers theme for much thought. 
Ricardo’s ambition, gentleness and courage, were 
traits in his manly character which called for better 
blood than was supposed to run in the veins of a 
half-breed Indian. 

Mariquita, the little daughter of Don Marcos, 
who lived not far from the mill, thought no one so 
brave and handsome as Ricardo. Twice he had 
saved her from drowning, and thereby gained the 
gratitude and good will of her father. In all her 
walks and rambles over the hills, Ricardo was now 


5o 



THE OLD MILL, SAN GABRIEL, CAL. 
Somewhat modernized by the addition of a portico 





THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


her constant companion and willing slave. No 
flower of all the many he gathered for her was half 
so fair as she. She combined in gracefulness 
and sweetness, the beauty of them all. Early and 
late he gathered the lovely blossoms to lay at her 
feet, that she might revel in their gorgeous bloom, 
as would a brilliant butterfly, showing her seated 
on her floral throne, the most perfect flower of all 
that grew in the valley. 

Their devotion to each other grew with the days, 
and no other life than the one they lived came to 
disturb them for many years. The freedom Mari- 
quita enjoyed from all restraint was owing to an 
absolute and loving reign over her nurse, who could 
not deny to her darling child the wish to live among 
the birds and flowers, the ideal life her nature 
craved. Too well she knew the time was coming 
when, behind convent walls, her little heart would 
flutter like a caged bird for the freedom which she 
now enjoyed. By one excuse and another she had 
prevailed on Don Marcos not to place the child in 
school too soon. 

“ Don’t restrain her yet awhile, Don Marcos,” 
said the old nurse. “ She is just a wild flower, who 
will droop and die in the confinement of school 
life.” 

So at fifteen, Mariquita, still uncaged, danced 
and sang and wandered over the hills with Ricardo, 
as she had done for years. When she began to 
creep into Ricardo’s heart, he never knew, but 


5i 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


there she had grown, till his love for her was not 
less than that he felt for the Holy Mother. Pure 
and exalted, as of a being too good for this world, 
he enshrined her in his thoughts. Could his life 
go on forever as it had done, he would be content. 
The thought of mating himself with a creature so 
lovely as Mariquita, he had not dreamed was possi- 
ble. No one of all the people who came to the 
Don’s home was worthy enough to wear the flower 
of her love. He was not, and no other could 
appreciate her gentle and loving heart so well as 
he. But of the gulf which separated them, he 
never knew till now, when separation was so 
near. 

Ricardo, with his noble nature, and opportunities 
at the mission school, was seldom reminded of his 
lowly birth. The respect which he and his father 
had ever received from the good padres, made him 
often forget his Indian blood, and his happy life in 
and about the old mill, with the gentle companion- 
ship of Mariquita, refined and ennobled a nature 
already superior to birth and circumstances. 

The rude awakening came one day, when he was 
roughly told by one of the men that he was only a 
half-breed, and must not hope to mate with the 
daughter of a Don. Had Ricardo spoken of a 
separation to Mariquita, she would not have under- 
stood. He belonged to her and she belonged to 
him. Nothing could separate them. She laughed 
at the idea of her father sending her to school, and 


52 


THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


she would have laughed if any one had told her 
Ricardo was not her equal. 

Ten happy years by his side had proved to her 
that he had no equal ; such foolish things as aris- 
tocratic birth and blue blood had never troubled 
her little head. And why need she go away to 
school ? She had teachers in the birds, trees and 
flowers, and what did she want to know of hateful 
books ? The sisters at the mission had taught her 
to read the prayer book, and that was enough. 
From Ricardo she had learned, oh, so many 
things ; she knew now more than any girl of her 
age, for Ricardo had taught her to whistle and trill 
as the birds do, and there was not a flower, tree or 
shrub that she could not tell by name. She knew 
every path through the mountains, and all the wild 
birds by their notes. She wished for no change — 
this life was enough for her. 

But Don Marcos had other plans for his daugh- 
ter’s future than the wild life she chose to live, and 
on his next trip to Mexico he prepared her to go 
with him. Almost broken-hearted at parting with 
Ricardo and her nurse, Mariquita went away with 
her father and the sister who was to take care of 
her on the journey. Confident that she would 
resume the old life on coming home, the parting to 
her meant only a few short years, in which she 
would work hard at her books, the sooner to return. 

To Ricardo the parting meant till death; he 
couid not live without her, and he could never hope 


53 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


to win her. He knew her heart was his now, but 
her hand he never could possess. Don Marcos 
would rather see his child dead than wedded to a 
half-breed. No hint of his great love for her must 
she ever know. The memory of their happy days 
he would treasure and think of her as one over 
whom the grave had closed. 

Good Father Antonio, to whom he went with 
his troubles, counseled, advised and gave him all 
the comfort he could, but the birds and the flowers 
they both loved so well only knew the hard and 
bitter fight he had to forget her as living. Each 
night found him wandering over the hills, visiting 
the places sacred to them, and at each shrine he 
turned his face to the stars and prayed he might 
never see another morning. Thus never f orgetting, 
but with memory keenly alive to all he had lost, he 
lived three years of a hermit’s life, doing penance 
the while for daring to love above his station. 

He must never see her more — her life on her 
return could not be like the old life, and she would 
never need him again. If it could be that he might 
die for her, how willingly he would give up his 
most wretched existence. Where he lived or how 
he lived, only old Miguel and Father Antonio ever 
knew, but they both prayed for him, and prayed 
that he soon might find the peace he craved. 

To Mariquita, the one cry of her heart was: 
“ Oh, for a day of freedom, to wander over the 
hills with Ricardo ! ” Like a caged bird she had 


54 


THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


endured her convent life, and as each day passed 
she counted it as one less between her and free- 
dom. And now the time was drawing near, and 
the sister had been bidden to return with her to 
her California home. How joyfully she heard the 
news as the sister gave her the enclosed letter from 
her father, and bade her read it. She was too 
happy to read or think of anything but the meeting 
with Ricardo and her nurse, who was all the mother 
she had ever known. And the dear old mill, how 
she longed to hear the rumble of its clumsy 
machinery and the roar of the water from the 
spring as it dashed and sparkled over the wheels 
that turned it. 

Dreamily she lived over the past till, reminded 
of her father’s letter, laughing then at her forget- 
fulness, she opened it and glanced at the contents, 
and as she did so, all hope of a happy return to her 
home fled from her face. 

Her father wrote that he had promised her hand 
to Don Pedro, and that every arrangement for her 
marriage to him on the day following her return 
home was made, after which she would sail with 
her husband to his place in Spain. Don Pedro was 
fabulously rich, he wrote, and she would have a 
princely home, and every wish gratified ; he ended 
by saying she was a most fortunate girl to be loved 
by such a Croesus as Don Pedro. 

Fortunate to be the wife of Don Pedro ! It 
made her sick with terror to think of it. She 


55 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


remembered him on one of his visits to her father 
as a little old wrinkled man, who impressed her 
with a nameless fear when he tried to caress her. 
Far happier would she be to give her life to the 
Church, and she begged and implored the sisters 
in vain to place her in a convent for life. She 
knew her father would never refuse her to Don 
Pedro. He had sent her away to school when it 
had almost broken her heart, and he would not 
care for her pleadings now. 

Sadly the sisters grieved for her, but they must 
do their duty and return her to her father. So, 
more heart-broken and hopeless than when she 
left, Mariquita returned to her father’s house. Old 
nurse Luisa did not find her light-hearted, happy 
child in this sad-faced girl, who, speechless with 
grief, sank in her outstretched arms. 

Mariquita had gained her freedom only to lose 
it — to lose it in a bondage worse to her than death. 
The little hope she had that Ricardo could be of 
help was gone, when she learned that he had not 
been seen about the mill for a year. Down on her 
knees she fell and cried aloud to the Holy Mother, 
and to Ricardo, living or dead, to help her. 

Away up in the Sierra Madre Mountains, Ricardo, 
lying on the ground, and looking up at the stars, 
felt, rather than heard Mariquita’s cry of distress. 

“ Mariquita needs me,” he said, “I will go to 
her 1 ” and hastening down the mountain side, he 
stopped not till at the close of the next day he 


56 


THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


neared the mill, and reached the spot where they 
had parted three years before. 

Accustomed to obedience in her convent life, 
Mariquita made no resistance when her nurse, on 
the evening after her return, arrayed her slight 
form in her bridal robes. If old Luisa had been 
dressing her darling child for the grave, she could 
not have had a harder task than was given her 
now. 

Mariquita had wept and prayed till all hope was 
gone, so passively she let her nurse do with her as 
she chose, not seeming to notice why she was being 
decked in such rich attire. It was only when the 
nurse would have placed the bridal veil on her hair, 
that Mariquita aroused herself. Tearing it from 
her head, she threw it down, declaring she would 
die before they should marry her to old Don Pedro. 
Frightened at the state Mariquita was in, the nurse 
turned away to seek Don Marcos and implore him 
to relent. But even as her back was turned, a 
change came over the face of Mariquita — a change 
so swift and so great that it was really marvelous. 
She stopped in her frantic grief, and turned her 
head to one side as if listening, then springing to 
the door, she sent forth from her little throat the 
answer to the bird-call she had learned so well, and 
gathering her bridal robes about her, she fled 
through the door and along the well-known path to 
the mill. On she ran, her feet scarce touching the 
ground. Faster and faster, as if fearing pursuit, 


57 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

she gained in speed till, panting for breath, she fell 
into Ricardo’s arms. 

“ Save me, Ricardo, save me,” she gasped. 

Ricardo, folding her closely in his arms, silently 
carried her to a secret room in the mill, known 
only to himself and Father Antonio, and placing 
her within, returned to the mill entrance with a 
look on his face which meant that only over his 
dead body could they have her now. Of the 
nature of her trouble he had not heard, but the 
night before, on the mountain, her spirit voice had 
disclosed to him some great danger to her. That 
was enough for him to know. 

In pursuit came her friends ; they had seen her 
white dress as she bounded through the gloom of 
the night towards the mill, and they knew where 
to find her. That her trouble had temporarily 
deranged her, they each and all supposed, but 
when they saw Ricardo they knew it was he 
who had called her away. Burning with jealousy 
and mad with rage, Don Pedro rushed upon 
Ricardo, and not stopping to think of the dread- 
ful crime he would commit, he plunged his knife 
into Ricardo’s heart. As Ricardo sank down, a 
shriek was heard which rang over the mill, and 
Mariquita springing from her hiding place fell 
unconscious on the bleeding form of Ricardo, and 
her bridal garments were stained with his blood 
before the sound of her voice had ceased to echo 
in the room. 


58 


THE TRAGEDY AT THE OLD MILL 


Tenderly her father removed her to her home, 
grief-stricken at the result of his selfish plans to 
wed her to Don Pedro’s riches. 

Don Pedro, insane with rage and a desire for 
more vengeance, was shunned by all the guests 
who knew and respected Ricardo and felt grief for 
his death. 

Removing her blood-stained garments, old Luisa 
stood sobbing over the couch of the unconscious 
Mariquita. 

“ Let her alone, Don Marcos,” said the old nurse, 
as she motioned him away, “ let nature restore her, 
she is best so for the present.” 

Late in the night, life came back to Mariquita. 
She awakened as from a sweet sleep, then sat up 
and listened to songs of the night-birds, a light 
breaking over her face and beaming from her eyes. 

“ Ricardo is calling me,” she said, “ I will go to 
him.” 

Softly stepping from the couch, so as not to 
awaken her sleeping nurse, she went out into the 
night again. Taking the same old path to the mill, 
and singing her bird-songs as she went along, laugh- 
ing to herself as she saw each familiar object. Stop- 
ping to inhale the fragrance of the flowers that 
bloomed only for her, gently untangling the vines 
that lovingly sought to clasp her in their embrace 
as she passed them, and lingering over the places 
that brought back tender recollections of happy 
days, she, all the while laughing, chatting, calling 


59 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


to the birds, and singing praises of thanksgiving, 
went on and on in the soft moonlight to meet 
Ricardo. 

The next morning when search was made for 
Mariquita, they found her lying in the lake, among 
the reeds. Flowers were twined in her hair and 
clasped in her tiny hands. The happy smile that 
had not left her face, told all was well with her, 
as the nurse saw when she dressed her for her 
long sleep. With tears streaming down her aged 
face, old Luisa placed the dripping flowers in the 
form of a cross on Mariquita ’s white breast, all the 
while repeating to herself, “It is well with the 
child.” 

Old Miguel wandered away from the valley and 
was never seen again, but not before he was terri- 
bly avenged on the slayer of his son. Some said 
old Miguel had also pronounced a curse on the mill 
and all connected with it. However it was, pros- 
perity did seem to desert the place. The water in 
the spring refused to flow, the Indian help sickened 
and died, and all the blossoms about the mill were 
streaked and splashed with red. 

“ It is the blood of innocence,” the superstitious 
ones said, and to them the emblem was as sacred 
as the graves of Mariquita and Ricardo. 


60 



LAKE NEAR THE OLD MILL 









AT THE SHRINE OF 
SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


EARL Y MASS AT 
SAN CARLOS DEL CAR MEL O 


This early morn I gazed on Nature's face. 

Around me in a dim and hazy light 
Lay Mission fields ; adjoining on my right , 
Built by the sons of a converted race , 

San Carlos loomed in all its hallowed grace. 

Above and from the south there came in sight, 
Wild geese that northward flew in noisy flight , 
Till in the misty air I lost their trace . 

To hear the Padre read an early Mass, 

The Indians came, and blest, then bending low 
They prayed ; the service o'er, I saw them pass 
To labor, walking single file and slow : 

The mist had gone, like breath upon a glass, 

For o'er the range appeared a crimson glow. 

— “ Father Junipero Serra,” Act I. 


AT THE SHRINE OF 
SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


I T was a lovely winter day in Southern California, 
in the year 1 846. The sun shone with almost 
the glimmering heat of July, and the air, which for 
days had been soft and balmy, coaxed and encour- 
aged countless buds to unfold their leaves, till now 
the gardens were one brilliant display of bloom. In 
an ancient, adobe ranch home, not far from the 
San Luis Rey Mission, every door and window was 
open to admit the warm air and bright sunshine. 
The golden sunlight lay in broad patches on the 
uneven floors of the rooms and penetrated the 
thick, leafy screen made by the climbing rose which 
shaded one end of the long veranda. This rose- 
tree, venerable as the walls over which it threw its 
long branches, was loaded with a wealth of white 
flowers, the perfume from which scented the air 
and was wafted through the open windows into the 
house by the light breeze which at intervals gently 
moved the boughs to and fro. With each gust of 
wind there came a shower of rose leaves, which 
fluttered softly down on the floor of the veranda 
like flakes of snow. Not a sound had been heard 
about the house for some time ; the stillness and 
peacefulness of contentment seemed to pervade the 


63 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


place ; the singing of birds and the buzzing of bees 
as they flew in and out of the rose thicket near 
the dwelling, were the only sounds to be heard 
without. 

In the shaded part of the court, under the roses, 
a lovely boy of two years was sleeping in a ham- 
mock, which was being lazily swung by an old 
Mexican woman who sat near, and who herself 
seemed half asleep. The child’s chubby little 
hands were full of crushed and moist rose leaves 
which he had amused himself by catching as, blown 
by the wind, they fell all about him, till, tired of 
his play, he , had fallen asleep. While the baby 
slept the white blossoms, still drifting, wove a fairy 
cover for him, almost burying the child in their 
scented leaves. His wavy, dark hair could just be 
seen under the white crown, and his breath, as it 
rose and fell, stirred the petals all about his dim- 
pled face. Art could not contrive a picture half 
so perfect or with the exceeding loveliness of the 
one which nature here presented to the eyes of the 
beautiful mother of the sleeping infant as she came 
noiselessly through the door, and stopped to gaze 
on the fairy scene. Her dress of some soft, white 
material, with clusters of bright red blossoms at 
her throat, softened her rich, Spanish beauty, which, 
in a gayer costume, would have been too brilliant 
for such rural surroundings. 

As she bent to kiss the sleeping child she scat- 
tered the white leaves from his face, and in their 


64 


AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


place there fell a petal from the flowers she wore 
at her neck. “ It looks like a drop of blood,” she 
exclaimed, as she hastily brushed it away. “ Do 
you think we shall hear bad news, Marta? I 
dreamed of Leonardo last night, and I thought he 
looked so ill. I cannot drive the unfavorable 
impression it made from my mind.” 

Thus addressed, old Marta slowly aroused her- 
self and muttered, “ Blood, blood, I see nothing but 
blood. It is on your dress, child.” 

With a scream of fright the young mother looked 
about her, and as she saw the red blossoms she 
frantically tore them from her dress and threw 
them on the ground. They fell among the white 
rose leaves, and to her horrified gaze appeared 
more like drops of blood than ever. “ O this cruel 
war,” she moaned, as she clasped her startled babe 
to her breast. “ Holy Mother, how can I bear it ? 
Unsay those dreadful words, Marta ; you were only 
dreaming, say you only did it to frighten me,” she 
implored. But Marta sadly shook her head. Her 
reputation for foretelling events was too great 
among the people for her young mistress to doubt 
her now when she saw the sad look on the woman’s 
face. Old Marta worshipped the child and loved 
the mother and would willingly give her life for 
them, and to cause her such sorrow now wrung the 
fond nurse’s heart with pain. She sank at the feet 
of her mistress and begged her to be brave and 
bear her troubles for the sake of the child. 


( 5 ) 


65 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

The poor child, so rudely awakened, did not 
understand it at all. He was used to smiles, not 
tears, when he opened his beautiful eyes. He 
turned from his mother to the nurse with a fright- 
ened look, then great tears rolled down his face 
and his little body shook with sobs ; seeing this his 
mother hushed her grief to comfort him. She took 
from her neck a gold chain, to which was suspended 
a miniature of her husband. This she held to the 
child to show him the picture of his father and her- 
self, painted just after they were married. How 
happy they both looked, she thought, and would 
they ever be so happy again ? Sadly she closed 
the case and fastened the chain about the child’s 
neck. “You shall wear it to-day, darling,” she 
said, “ it is papa’s picture ; I am afraid we shall 
never see him more.” 

Not quite a year had gone by since her husband, 
dressed in the picturesque costume of Pico’s lan- 
cers, had gone to the defence of his country. She 
saw him ride away with such pain at her heart as 
only a woman can know. Since then she had 
lived in constant terror of bad news. But the 
young Senora was a brave woman and worthy to 
be the wife of a soldier. Courageously she had 
insisted on staying in her home, though she knew 
it was unsafe while her country was in such an 
unsettled state, but since the death of old Marta’s 
only son, who had been killed by some lawless 
usurpers, the nurse’s prophecy that they would all 


66 


AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


meet the same fate, had made her nervous and 
fearful of the result of the trouble which met her 
people on all sides. 

What would the end be, she often asked herself. 
If any harm should come to Leonardo, she and 
baby would be left alone amid the strife of those 
hazardous times when no life was safe, and rapine 
and murder were committed almost in sight of her 
own door. How could the flowers bloom and the 
sun shine and nature look so undisturbed when 
there was such danger menacing their lives and 
their homes? As she looked over their broad 
acres and saw the growing trees her husband had 
helped to plant, and in which he took such pride, 
her heart cried out in anguish for the return of 
the few short years of their happy, married life. 

“I cannot endure this suspense, Marta,” said 
the young Senora, bravely suppressing her emo- 
tions, “ I must know if there be tidings of a battle. 
It has been weeks since I have heard from Leon- 
ardo. I will have one of the men ride to San 
Diego for news.” But even as she spoke there 
came in view a horse and rider, the jaded appear- 
ance of both, as they came up the shaded avenue, 
showing the hard work done by man and beast on 
the long journey they had come without stopping 
for rest. The young soldier, dismounting, almost 
fell from the saddle with fatigue, and with difficulty 
moved his stiffened limbs up the veranda steps 
and approached the Senora, who, with her child 

67 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


still in her arms, had, since her first glimpse of 
the horseman, stood as if unable to move or speak. 
It was the nurse who spoke and asked if he 
brought news. 

“Yes,” he answered, “I have just come from 
San Pasquale with a letter from Captain Leonardo 
Par ilia to the Senora.” 

With a cry of joy the young mother dropped 
the child in the hammock and reached for the let- 
ter. Yes, Leonardo was alive, and well, but he 
wrote that they were on the eve of an encounter 
with the enemy, and he asked the Senora to 
implore the saints to spare his life, and if her 
prayers were answered, he would be with her in a 
few days. If not, and he should fall in the defence 
of his country, he wished her to take Marta and 
old Juan and return to Mexico. He asked for a 
line in return, and begged her, as did old Marta, to 
bravely bear her troubles for the sake of little Leon. 

“ When do you return, Senor ? ” said the young 
Senora, forcing herself to speak bravely. 

“ My orders, Senora, are to return at once if I 
can procure a fresh horse, for this poor beast is 
tired out.” 

“ Marta will see that you are furnished with food 
and a good horse, Senor, while I prepare my mes- 
sage to Captain Parilla,” answered the Senora, as 
she went to her room. 

A short time later she watched, with Marta, the 
messenger’s departure till he was lost to sight 


68 


AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 

among the hills, then calmly turning to her nurse 
she said that old Raquel, the Indian woman who 
often came to the house, had told her the night 
before that the saints would grant the prayers of 
any one who would pray at midnight in the chapel 
of San Antonio de Pala. “We will go there 
to-night, Marta, and I will ask the blessed saints 
to watch over Leonardo and spare his life. Little 
Leon will go with us, and Juan will drive. Juan 
knows the road well, he tells me, and says if we 
start early we can reach there before the midnight 
hour.” 

“But the danger, my child,” exclaimed old 
Marta, “it is a rough road and the country is full 
of bad Indians and drunken white men. It is too 
perilous to consider ! We will be murdered before 
morning if we follow this superstitious Indian cus- 
tom. The blessed saints will grant our prayers at 
San Luis Rey Mission as readily as they will at the 
deserted old ruins of San Antonio de Pala,” said 
Marta, arousing from her sorrowful forebodings 
when she found her darlings were in peril. In 
vain old Marta protested against taking the child 
on such a hazardous journey as night would make it. 

“The saints will protect us, Marta,” said her 
mistress. “ We are unsafe here as well as there 
while this country is overrun by lawless men. 
Juan came to tell me this morning that several 
head of cattle were driven from our place last night 
and slaughtered. And who are here to protect us 


69 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


if we were attacked ? None but a few old men. 
These friends are too old for their country's service, 
faithful as they are to us, they would be helpless 
in time of danger. But do not fear trouble to-night, 
Marta. I have asked the Holy Mother to watch 
over us, and she will keep us from all harm. Our 
precious Leon will be as safe under her watchful 
care as he would be in his own little bed. Bad 
and wicked men do not go near those sacred places 
at night, for they would be in terror of the just 
wrath of the sainted ones.” 

When old Marta found her mistress was deter- 
mined to go on a pilgrimage to San Antonio de 
Pala, she went grumblingly about her preparations 
to make the lumbering old carrita as comfortable 
as possible for the long night’s ride. Baby Leon, 
left alone in his hammock, continued gleefully to 
play with the shower of rose leaves, all unconscious 
of trouble, as he chatted his baby talk to the birds 
and flowers, while great was his delight when he 
found he could swing himself by his own little 
efforts. 

Just as the day was declining the little party 
started on their long journey, but each in a differ- 
ent state of mind from the other. Old Juan, 
resigned to whatever his beloved mistress wished 
him to do ; the child curious and pleased with the 
novelty of a ride in the old cart ; and Marta rebel- 
lious and grumbling, denouncing Indians in general 
and old Raquel in particular for putting such 


70 


AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


superstitious notions in the head of the young 
Senora. The young Senora, in the meantime, was 
not disturbed by her nurse’s misgivings. She knew 
Marta loved her and she believed Marta was more 
convinced than she would like to own, that their 
mission to the chapel would prove a blessing, but 
she had ruled her darling mistress too many years 
to meekly submit to the interference of old Raquel 
without a murmur. 

With perfect faith that constant prayer and the 
intercession of San Antonio de Pala would save 
her husband’s life in the coming battle, the Senora 
Parilla, with bowed head and a rosary in her hands, 
sat breathing prayer after prayer of supplication to 
that saint. And the soft, sweet music of the ves- 
per bells, plainly heard as they neared San Luis 
Rey, seemed to their anxious hearts like a benedic- 
tion from heaven. It was long past little Leon’s 
bed-time, but sleep did not easily come to his wake- 
ful eyes, which grew larger and more unblinking as 
the darkness came on. He saw the stars for the 
first time in his short life, and gazed at them with 
wonder in his face. This was a new entertainment 
for him and he did not intend to miss any of it if 
he could help it. It was a beautiful world to live 
in, roses by day, and thousands of tiny lamps by 
night, — r of course, they were all for him, and he 
reached up his little hands to catch them as he did 
for the rose leaves, while the question in his eyes, 
that his baby lips could not form, as he looked at 


7i 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


the horses, at old Juan, whose pet he was, and then 
back to his mother and his nurse, said as plainly as 
they could speak, “ What does it all mean ? ” By 
and by his eye-lids grew heavy and after many 
attempts to keep them open he gave up the fight 
and slept as peacefully in Marta’s arms as he would 
have done in his hammock. 

Clasping the child closely to her, as if to shield 
him from harm, Marta sat silently thinking. She 
could not shake off the gloomy feeling which had 
oppressed her for days, and she trembled with fear 
when the air grew colder and the fog settled about 
them. The peaceful scene of the early morning 
came into her mind and she contrasted it with the 
darkness and terrors of coming danger which 
appeared to menace them. The old carrita, worn 
and unfit for the journey, threatening every moment 
to come apart, plunged after the horses and swayed 
from side to side on the hilly road like a ship in a 
storm, while Marta, holding fast the child with one 
hand, steadied herself with the other. 

“ The child should have been left at home,” she 
moaned to herself, “ His mother is crazed with 
grief and did not know what she was doing. Why 
did I obey her ? ” she cried in anguish, as the night 
grew darker and a mist began to fall. It was a 
wild and desolate country through which they 
were passing. Occasionally could be heard the 
howling of coyotes in some adjacent canon, and, to 
add to their fears, there now sounded the roar of 


72 


AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


the mountain lions, which at night came down the 
wild gorges in search of prey. The knowledge of 
their nearness increased the alarm and anxiety of 
both Juan and Marta, but their mistress appeared 
not to heed the danger, so intent was she with her 
prayers. 

The creaking and groaning of the cart, as it 
lumberingly strained over the rough places in the 
road, was a grewsome accompaniment to the cries 
of the wild beasts, as they passed along. Marta’s 
arms grew cramped, holding the child so many 
hours. She finally wrapped him in blankets and 
placed him on pillows in the bottom of the cart, 
then settled herself back in her seat and drew her 
shawl closely about her to keep out the dampness 
and dullness that penetrated to her benumbed and 
stiffened limbs, causing her to shiver with cold. 

Thus in silence they finished the remainder of 
their journey. Old Marta, resigned now to her 
fate, repeated her prayers and gazed with tearful 
eyes at her mistress, whom she could just discern 
by the light of the carrita lantern. As they neared 
the old ruins of San Antonio de Pala they could 
see the belfry tower as, dimly outlined in its ghostly 
garment of fog, it loomed spectrally before them, 
and when they alighted from the cart at the entrance 
of the ruins, and made their way over the broken 
tiles towards the chapel, Juan and Marta breathed 
a prayer of thankfulness that the journey, with its 
attendant horrors, was over, and that here among 


73 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


the blessed saints they would be secure from all 
harm. 

A swarm of bats attracted from the ruins by the 
light, circled and swayed about the lantern which 
Juan held high above his head as he preceded the 
little party into the chapel. After him walked his 
mistress, devoutly repeating her prayers, while old 
Marta, with stiffened limbs, stumbled along over 
the uneven places with little Leon in her arms. 

The Senora Parilla, who moved as one inspired, 
entered the chapel and went direct to the figure of 
San Antonio de Pala, the patron saint of the mis- 
sion, and threw herself in supplication before that 
image. Placing the sleeping child within the hal- 
lowed space surrounding the saint, Juan and Marta 
dropped on their knees beside their mistress and 
fervently besought San Antonio to spare to them 
their beloved master, of whom they were so proud. 

When the first faint light of dawn penetrated the 
gloomy place, the Senora Parilla arose from her 
knees and clasped her sleeping child to her breast, 
then awakened Juan and Marta, who from old age 
and exhaustion had fallen asleep while engaged in 
their devotions. As the old couple aroused from 
their slumbers on the stone floor, they looked with 
holy awe on the saintly expression which illumined 
the face of their beloved mistress. “ Leonardo’s 
life is spared to me, dear friends,” she said. “ The 
blessed San Antonio has answered my prayers. 
Let us now sing his praise in a sunrise hymn.” 


74 



MISSION SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 

















AT THE SHRINE OF SAN ANTONIO DE PALA 


With happy hearts the old servants joined with 
their mistress in singing the morning hymn, and as 
they sang the fear of coming evil which had haunted 
them for days was swept away by their trust in the 
promise of the saint. Many years had passed since 
such a song of praise had been heard within the 
walls of that sacred edifice, and as the music of 
their voices echoed far and wide, it appeared to 
them as though the chapel was peopled with the 
spirits of by-gone worshipers, who united to swell 
the chorus to its patron saint. When they emerged 
from its gloomy recesses and came into the gray 
light of early morning, the birds took up the sun- 
rise hymn and joyously caroled forth their praises 
to the new-born day. 

The rosy glow in the east, the herald of the ris- 
ing sun, was spreading broader and higher, while 
tearing apart the misty veil of fog that covered its 
face. Jaggedly here and there the gray fringe 
hung over the hill-tops, while down in the valley it 
still lay white and cold, like great billows of sea- 
foam. How changed from the gloom and terrors 
of night was the promise in all of this ! Bathed 
a‘nd refreshed in the misty garment which had 
wrapped it so closely in its period of rest, nature 
was now slowly assuming its dress of various tints. 

To the Senora Parilla this seemed not unlike the 
change that had come to her, in her long night 
of prayer. Cleansed from all doubt, with hope 
renewed, she felt that a new and brighter day had 


75 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


dawned for her. Thus it was, with a look of 
heaven-sent peace shining on her face, that the 
young Senora, who had gone in perfect faith to 
the shrine of San Antonio de Pala, began her 
journey home. 


76 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


MISSION SANTA CRUZ 


How swiftly here oblivion set her seal / 

U'hai has the vanished century left of each — 

The Spanish rooftree and the Spanish speech — 

The music and the roses of Castile ? 

A newer generation comes to kneel 

Where crumbling walls and broken tiles of red 
Became the dust above forgotten dead — 

The unregarded dust beneath the wheel. 

The call to vespers hath a different tone ; 

Even the mission bells were cast anew , 

And alien echoes mingle with their own 
From crowded streets , where once the wild flowers grew. 
New speech , new shrines , new hopes and cares and fears , 
To usher in another hundred years. 

— S. E. Anderson in “ The Californian.” 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


UR Lady of Solitude,” from whom the Mis- 



sion La Soledad derives its name, could, 
if she chose to return to earth, walk among the 
ruins of that old structure in solitude as profound 
as that which reigns in the sepulchers of the dead. 
Many years have passed since the spirit that ani- 
mated the place had fled, and yet a halo of departed 
glory still pervades the atmosphere of the desolate 


spot. 


About the crumbling walls of the old chapel, 
there breathes forth a romantic air of mystery 
impressively sad, to one turning the leaves of the 
past and beholding in perfected beauty this monu- 
ment of ruins ; once a prosperous mission, now a 
deserted and lonely spot with few traces to show 
where had stood the adobe walls which willing 
hands erected so long ago. 

During the early years that Padre Florencio 
Ybanez served at the mission there came from 
Monterey to La Soledad a wealthy Spanish gentle- 
man, Don Vincenti Estrada, with his wife and 
young daughter, Senorita Catalina. 

Don Vincenti invested much money in large 
tracts of land and devoted the greater part of his 
time to cattle raising, the chief industry of the 


79 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Spanish land owner of that epoch. The Don was 
proud of his handsome wife and daughter and built 
for them a fine adobe house not far from the mis- 
sion, for the Senora Estrada had expressed the wish 
to live within sound of the mission bells. There 
surrounded by all the comforts that wealth could 
procure in those early days, the family of Don 
Vincenti and its numerous servants, heard every 
peal of the holy bells as they proclaimed their 
sacred message far and wide. 

With her daughter happily married and living by 
her side, the Senora Estrada said she would wish 
for nothing more than a continuance of their ideal 
existence. The distance from Monterey was not 
so great but that some of her friends from there 
constantly shared her hospitality ; thus between 
going and coming from one ranch house to another 
the social life of La Soledad was kept alive by the 
young Dons and Senoritas. 

Among the frequent visitors to the home of Don 
Vincenti Estrada was their handsome young neigh- 
bor, Don Ramon Valasco, who was the accepted 
suitor of the fair Catalina. 

Passionately devoted was Don Ramon to Don 
Vincenti’ s lovely daughter, while she, with a depth 
of affection for him alone, had promised to become 
his bride on her seventeenth birthday. 

Wealth and the consent of both families of the 
happy pair were theirs. Not alone the sanction of 
the parents, but all the friends, in and about La 


80 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


Soledad, showed their loving interest in their 
approaching nuptials, for the devotion of the lovers 
had been a pleasant theme of gossip on every 
tongue for months. Don Estrada’s daughter was 
called by the mission Indians “Santa Catalina.” 
They loved her for her kindness to them in sick- 
ness and trouble and there was not one but would 
risk his life to save her from harm. No fairer 
promise of happiness ever dawned for mortals than 
was shown by this evidence of devotion from all, 
creating as it did a radiance of love about Don 
Ramon and Catalina Estrada. 

Don Ramon was the nephew of Padre Ybanez, 
and many of the good qualities for which the padre 
was so beloved were found in his nephew. Thus 
a double interest centered about Don Ramon in 
the minds of the neophytes ; he was the nephew of 
their kind padre and he would wed their beautiful 
“ Santa Catalina.” 

A happy future was predicted for the lovers and 
fondly hoped for by all the mission people. As the 
time drew near for the wedding the interest of their 
friends deepened, and in a hundred ways they mani- 
fested their regard. Padre Ybanez asked no greater 
happiness than to unite still closer these two whom 
he most loved. He had known Catalina from her 
birth and gave her the name she bore at her bap- 
tism. The name was dear to Padre Ybanez ; it 
was his mother’s name and the name of his birth- 
place in Spain. 


( 6 ) 


81 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


A golden chain and jeweled cross was the padre’s 
wedding and birthday gift to Catalina ; and when 
he placed it about her neck she vowed to wear it 
as long as she lived. Ramon’s gift was a jeweled 
locket with his miniature enclosed, that she said 
would find a resting place on her heart while in 
life, and at her death it should be buried with her. 

Catalina’s birthday dawned clear and bright and 
no finer prospect for a happy ending ever greeted 
a bride. 

Don Vincenti said they would celebrate his 
daughter’s birthday first, and at the close of the 
day’s festivities her marriage to Don Ramon would 
take place at the mission church. “ By this means,” 
he said, “ the two events would be happily enjoyed 
by all.” Very lovely were her bridal robes of soft 
white silk with tracings of embroidery as delicate as 
the finest lace. Her jewels were family treasures, 
priceless and rare, and had decked many a bride in 
Spain in other days. 

Rare and costly and beautiful as were all her 
wedding gifts, Catalina prized still more the love 
and good will of all her friends. The happy event 
of her marriage was attended with no sad thoughts 
of parting from them, for her new home, like her 
old, would still be within sound of the mission bells, 
which to her was music far sweeter than any she 
had ever heard. The sun never shone on a hap- 
pier day for the neophytes of La Soledad than this 
one of the wedding with its attendant festivities. 


82 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


They were to have a holiday and help to make 
glad the birth and wedding day of their “ Santa 
Catalina.” 

Long before the break of day bonfires were built 
and kept brightly burning. The wedding bells at 
intervals pealed forth joyful notes of gladness, 
sending their sweet sounds far over the valley, and 
proclaiming near and far the happy event to take 
place in the mission chapel at the vesper hour. 
Custom and conventionality were thrown aside and 
the neophytes were bidden to celebrate the occa- 
sion as best suited their ideas of a tribute to the 
fair bride. 

All day long guests were arriving, more than 
the Don’s spacious mansion could hold, so many of 
the visitors were glad to avail themselves of the 
mission quarters. As night approached the still 
brightly burning fires lighted up the grounds about 
the Don’s house, but cast dark shadows beyond the 
line of light, with weird effect, to the mission 
buildings. 

Catalina had told her Indian friends she would 
come out among them in her wedding garments a 
short time before going to the chapel ; for the 
chapel she knew would not hold the half of those 
gathered about the brightly leaping flames of ever- 
green boughs. 

To disappoint those who had been rejoicing for 
her all day, she could not do, so she overruled her 
parents’ objections to the ill-omened custom of 


83 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


appearing in her wedding dress before the appointed 
hour of her marriage, and thus appareled she greeted 
her dusky friends, standing alone with the bright 
fire-light at times staining the pure whiteness of her 
bridal robes a deep red, or flashing wickedly here 
and there over her wedding garments as if in 
derision of their spotless purity. 

Like some goddess of fire she stood for a moment 
watching the leaping flames, her jewels flashing 
forth colors more brilliant and burning than the 
fire, as they blazed and sparkled on her neck and 
arms. No one of her guests who saw her standing 
there bathed in the changing lights ever forgot the 
picture she made. Some of them turned their eyes 
away and crossed themselves, saying it boded no 
good to brave a custom as old as the hills about 
them. Even Ramon was affected and taking the 
hand of Catalina he led her back to the house, thus 
breaking the spell which had shaken them all with 
fear of coming sorrow. Catalina laughed at their 
superstitions and asked what harm could come of 
so innocently braving what seemed to her a foolish 
custom, when to make others happy was of so 
much more importance. After reassuring them 
that no harm could Come from so kind an act, 
Catalina said she wished to be alone for a few 
moments ; she would go to her room and there 
kneeling before the image of the Holy Virgin ask 
her to bless her coming years as she had blessed 
her bridal day. Very beautiful she looked as she 


84 





MISSION SAN MIGUEL 
Founded July 25, 1797 





THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 

stood for a moment fondly caressing her father, 
with the light of love and happiness shining in her 
eyes and beaming lovingly on all about her. 

“ My ‘ Santa Catalina,’ ” said her father, ten- 
derly, using the name given her by her Indian 
friends, “you are a jewel more precious and beau- 
tiful to me than the historic gems that clasp your 
neck and arms, for they are but the setting to this 
rarer gem which sheds such a love light over the 
hearts of your many friends.” Leading her then 
to her room the Don parted from her, praying that 
the blessings of the Holy Mother would rest upon 
his child. 

At the vesper hour the chapel was filled with 
wedding guests and the groom waited at the altar, 
momentarily looking for the lovely bride and her 
people. The bells were merrily ringing, the fires 
were still brightly burning. Slowly the wedding 
hour passed, moments came and went and yet no 
bride appeared to greet the eyes of her impatient 
bridegroom. 

But at the home of Don Vincenti Estrada all 
was confusion and grief, his darling child not many 
moments from his side, was strangely absent. She 
was not to be found in her room or about the house 
or grounds, and messengers were hurriedly sent to 
the mission church with the sad tidings of her dis- 
appearance. Their arrival with such heart breaking 
and startling news almost paralyzed for the moment 
Ramon, the waiting bridegroom, and Padre Ybanez. 


85 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


They were at first unwilling to believe such a 
horrible message, until it was confirmed by others 
bringing the same cruel report. With their horri- 
fied guests they quickly left the church and began 
the search for Catalina. Bonfires were left to die 
out while the neophytes with one accord sought 
everywhere for their beloved “ Santa Catalina.” 
The house, the grounds, the mission quarters, the 
chapel, the Indian huts, every place, all places were 
searched as word passed from one terrified person 
to another that Catalina had been spirited away. 

All through the long night they sought in vain 
for some trace of the missing bride, and when the 
morning broke fair and smiling it revealed to the 
grief-stricken friends nothing to comfort them. All 
that day and the following night searching parties 
went without rest or food while seeking the lost 
girl, till nature refused unaided to do more. Days 
passed into weeks and now most of the guests had 
returned to their homes worn out with grief, toil 
and sleepless nights, but yet the search was not 
abandoned. 

All the seaport towns were visited and all out- 
going vessels carefully searched. Powerful friends 
from Monterey lent their aid and word was sent to 
all the ports where ships from the California coast 
were likely to touch, to watch the landing of all 
passengers. Tireless were the efforts of the mis- 
sion Indians in going over every foot of the ground 
within miles of La Soledad, in search of a hiding 

86 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


place where Catalina’s abductors could have con- 
cealed her, willingly aiding all in their power, but 
no sign could they discover with all their cunning 
where she was, or how the lovely girl had been 
taken from her aome. Weeks passed into months, 
months into years, before the afflicted parents 
and bereaved lover received a sign from Catalina ; 
and that sign when it came only deepened the 
mystery of her disappearance as well as confirmed 
them in the belief of her death. 

After the night of his great sorrow, Ramon had 
become a changed and heart-broken man, and when 
several years had gone by he still mourned his lost 
love. Wandering alone over the hills he would 
spend days calling on her to make some sign that 
she still lived, ofttimes spending the night where 
darkness overtook him, with nothing but the earth 
for a bed. On one such night Ramon awakened 
suddenly from a dream which moved him strangely ; 
he felt the presence of Catalina as he never had 
done in any of his dreams of her before. Yes, he 
felt some message from her would surely come. 
So impressed was he with this sign that he arose 
and calmly waited the next step she would have 
him take. There soon came to him an impulse to 
fellow a light which seemed to entice him on 
towards the mission. Always just in front of him 
it moved, lighting his way faintly at first, then 
growing brighter as it neared the place, till it 
rested over the chapel of La Soledad. 


87 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Never doubting for a moment but that the spirit 
of his lost love was guiding him, Ramon, in obedi- 
ence to this controlling power, passed into the 
church which was dark and deserted. As he did 
so, the light which had preceded him through the 
darkness to this holy place, appeared and moved 
directly to the image of the patron saint of La 
Soledad. Ramon stood entranced by the bright 
light which hovered near the saint, and as he con- 
tinued to gaze, the light appeared to his eyes to 
assume the form of his lost bride Catalina. With 
her white arms lifted he saw her take from her 
neck the chain of gold and the jeweled cross, the 
gift of Padre Ybanez, and place it at the feet of 
“Our Lady of Solitude.” Then taking the jew- 
eled locket, his last gift to her, from her bosom she 
pressed it to her lips and to her heart, while a 
resigned and heavenly smile parted her lips and 
moved them as if in prayer. At this, over the spir- 
itually lovely face there settled a look of perfect 
peace and happiness. Suddenly reaching her 
arms towards Ramon, she moved nearer to him, 
then paused, and pointing upwards, quickly faded 
from sight. As the vision faded, the spell which 
held Ramon was broken, and springing forward he 
vainly tried to grasp the receding light which 
quickly vanished, leaving the chapel in darkness. 
Falling on his knees before the saint, he cried 
aloud for a return of the heavenly vision, but only 
a faint sound of distant music answered his cry. 


88 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


When Ramon took Catalina’s cross to her 
parents and told them she had passed away, they 
said they knew she had gone, for her pure spirit in 
passing had appeared to them some days before, to 
comfort them in their great sorrow. 

Catalina’s dying request that some token of her 
death should be sent to La Soledad, must have 
been respected, but her friends never questioned 
that the jeweled cross reached there by other 
means than by the help of the spirit form of Cata- 
lina. Many were the tales told in whispers of her 
frequent visits to the sanctuary and at the home of 
her parents, and when bells were heard ringing at 
night, the mission people crossed themselves and 
said they were phantom wedding bells calling the 
bride. 

After the vision confirming the death of Cata- 
lina, Ramon gave his wealth and devotion to the 
Church. He in time, took holy vows, and became 
a priest of the Order of St. Francis, and, as Father 
Sanches, served with his assistant at the mission 
of La Soledad for many years, the place where he 
had lived through his happiest days and bitterest 
sorrow. Padre Ybanez had died some time before 
and the friends of the good old padre were glad to 
welcome as their parish priest the nephew, whom 
they all so loved. 

Gradually had peace and happiness come to 
Ramon’s troubled mind, for as Padre Sanches, his 
devotion to the mission work left him no time for 


89 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


sad or brooding thoughts of the past. The saintly- 
spirit of his lost bride, in whose memory he had 
dedicated his life to the church, hovered ever near, 
arousing interest and filling his heart with devotion 
and love for the work allotted to him. Aided also 
by the help and great wealth of Don Vincenti 
Estrada and his wife, hundreds of savage souls 
were made happy and helped to see the light of 
Christianity ; thus they built, by many kind acts, a 
lasting monument to their “ Santa Catalina/’ 

In answer to the constant prayers of Senora 
Estrada, that some day she might find the resting 
place of her daughter, there came an answer to her 
fervent pleadings. But more strange, more start- 
ling and more mysterious than was the abduction 
of her darling child in life, was the return, in death, 
of the earthly remains of Catalina. A few years 
after the cross had been left in the chapel of La 
Soledad the people of the mission were awakened 
one night by the bells tolling for a death, and yet 
none had occurred. Solemnly sounded the fune- 
real notes with no visible hand near the bells. 
Lights were also seen moving about the church by 
some of the brothers who feared to move from their 
cells lest some dreadful fate should overtake them. 

But when morning dawned it was discovered 
that a new grave had been made near the chapel 
wall and hastily covered, while all traces that could 
have told by whom it was done were carefully 
removed. 


90 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


Father Sanches, fearing some crime had thus 
been hidden, had the grave opened, and to his 
amazement he discovered not the roughly made 
burial case like those in use at the mission and 
made by the neophytes, but a casket richly carved 
and of foreign wood and make. 

When brought into the chapel, he found 
engraved on the small silver plate the one word, 
“ Catalina,” and the date of her death, a few years 
before. Within the casket there remained but the 
precious dust of the once lovely girl, wrapped in 
the dress of a Sister of “ St. Francis.” Placed 
above the silent heart in the folds of the robe, was 
a jewelled charm enclosing the miniature of Don 
Ramon, which Catalina said should be buried with 
her. Fallen over her face like a veil was her beau- 
tiful hair mercifully concealing from her friends 
the changes her long sleep had wrought. 

With impressive service and a mass for the 
repose of her soul, the remains of Catalina were 
reinterred in the mission cemetery, and there undis- 
turbed she slept through the many and varied 
changes that came to La Soledad. It was a com- 
fort to the bereaved parents to know that by her 
side they could rest when time called them to join 
her. Still nothing but a blank wall of mystery 
continued to surround the disappearance of Cata- 
lina, deepened more and more by the return of her 
beloved remains so quietly and strangely to her 
home. 


9i 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Every known effort to solve the mystery had 
been repeatedly made. Long and carefully, near 
and far, was the search continued for years. No 
motive for the abduction was ever known. Sur- 
rounded by hundreds of her friends she had 
dropped from their midst, and left no trace. 

Stranger happenings may have occurred but 
none fraught with so much grief and sorrow to so 
many hearts. The shock to Father Sanches, on 
beholding the remains of Catalina in the casket^ 
would have been his death, had he not been upheld 
by a stronger power than he had known when he 
first felt her loss. After a long night of prayer, 
kneeling before the Saint where he had seen her 
spirit form, he arose comforted and with strength 
given him to continue his holy work for many long 
years. 

There was one more link to be added to the 
chain of this weird drama, one more happening 
which deepened still further the mystery of La 
Soledad. It occurred years after the finding of 
Catalina’s grave, near the mission wall, years in 
which the incident had faded from the minds of all 
but Padre Sanches and a few old people, for the 
parents of Catalina were long since sleeping by her 
side. Late one dark and stormy night Padre 
Sanches was about leaving the chapel for his place 
of rest when he observed an old Indian woman 
bent almost double with the weight of years, and 
evidently a stranger to La Soledad, coming slowly 


92 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


towards him from the dark shadows near the chapel 
entrance. The padre had not seen or heard her 
enter but paused a moment to know what she 
wished on such a wild night and at so late an hour. 

As the aged woman neared the padre she fell on 
her knees and began mumbling in a jargon of the 
Spanish and Indian tongues, a confession ; but 
failing in her efforts to impress the father with her 
muttering words, she tried by signs and motions to 
make him understand that she wished him to take 
charge of a package which she held clasped tightly 
to her. Having accomplished her object she arose 
from her knees and left the church as silently as 
she had entered it. Padre Sanches took the package 
to his cell and looked long and carefully at the 
outer wrappings. The bundle had evidently lain 
unopened for years. It was securely bound about 
with the skin of some wild animal, and in the man- 
ner usually adopted by the Indians when wishing 
to preserve some sacred relic of their tribe. 

A strange feeling of reluctance to open the pack- 
age almost tempted the padre to leave it untouched 
and bury it from sight. But a presentiment that 
another page in the mystery of La Solcdad was 
about to be turned for him, urged him on, against 
his will, as with shaking fingers he cut the cords 
which held it. 

And so it proved, for on taking off several wrap- 
pings there were exposed to his horrified gaze what 
once were the dainty wedding garments of his lost 


93 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


bride Catalina, now yellow with age and soiled and 
torn in many places, showing the poor girl had 
struggled hard for her liberty the night she was 
spirited away. 

Each article was daintily marked with the name 
Catalina. How well Ramon remembered her call- 
ing his attention to her name so delicately wrought 
on a silken scarf which she ofttimes wore about her 
head, and now, here in his hands lay the stained 
relic of those happy days. Bitter memories of the 
past arose tearing anew the partly healed wound in 
his heart, which the finding of her grave had 
caused, piercing it again and again as each article 
passed through his hands, in searching for some 
light on the mystery, but nothing to help him 
solve the dark secret of her disappearance could he 
find. Wild with grief Ramon fell on his knees and 
implored the saints to keep him from going mad, 
for never had mortal man been so tried and wounded 
as he. Scattered among the garments were the 
jewels Catalina had worn, showing her ornaments 
and clothing had been hastily torn off and exchanged 
for a dress which would disguise her and escape 
notice. 

All her jewels were there but the cross and the 
locket, those the poor bride must have fought for 
or pleaded to retain about her neck. After a night 
spent in sorrow too sacred for mortal eyes to behold, 
Ramon felt again the peace which only supplication 
to the saints could give, and as Padre Sanches once 


94 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


more, he left his cell and with the help of his peo^ 
pie sought about the mission and village of La Sol- 
edad for the old Indian woman, but nothing could 
be learned. No one had seen her come, no one 
had seen her go. 

Many there were who doubted that such a per- 
son had ever been seen about the mission. They 
said it was the uneasy and evil spirit of Old Bar- 
bara, a half-breed Indian woman, a most wicked 
old hag, of whom it was said when living, that she 
was possessed of the Evil One. She did not belong 
to the Mission of La Soledad but visited there often 
during the early years that Padre Ybanez had charge 
of the place. She said she came to visit her brother 
Diego, but long before Catalina’s birthday Old 
Barbara and Diego had left La Soledad and never 
returned. Old Barbara had boasted that she did 
not belong to a mission, so no one ever knew from 
whence she came. 

Some there were who believed that Old Barbara 
and her brother had been instrumental in carrying 
off Catalina, but when sought for it was said they 
had both died at a neighboring mission of the fever. 
Yet in the minds of the more superstitious ones it 
was believed that her evil spirit could do more 
harm out of the body than in it, and that she was 
to blame for all the misfortunes that had come to 
La Soledad. 

Whether it were true or not, that either in, or 
out, of the flesh Old Barbara had carried off 


95 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Catalina, it was not proved. Nothing could be 
found to any way connect them with the abduction. 
Padre Sanches visibly aged after so many probings 
to his unhealed wound, and one morning not many 
months after the visit of the old Indian woman, he 
was found kneeling before the image of “ Our Lady 
of Solitude,” cold and still in death, his stiffened 
fingers with their icy chill, still clasped the jeweled 
cross Catalina had worn. 

Over the kindly face had settled a smile of such 
patient sweetness and trust, that all who saw him 
marveled at the Christ-like resemblance. Not far 
from the stone cross that marks the spot where 
Catalina sleeps, they found Padre Sanches a rest- 
ing place among the friends he loved. As Don 
Ramon, he had turned the last page in his sad his- 
tory. No baffling secrets would trouble him more, 
for his spirit, happy in the release from its earthly 
tenement, had joined the one whom he loved. 

Aided no doubt by the revival of the mystery, 
and the belief that the spirit of Catalina still 
haunted the place, “Our Lady of Solitude” was 
one of the first missions to feel the touch of neg- 
lect. The once devoted band of Indians silently 
one by one dropped away from the region of so 
much mystery, shadow and woe, and left the ruth- 
less' elements to erase all but the heavy air of sad- 
ness which hangs like a pall over the spot, where 
occurred one of the most mysterious tragedies ever 
told of mission life in Alta California. 


96 


THE MYSTERY OF LA SOLEDAD 


The enigma of La Soledad was never solved. 
How the remains of the beautiful Catalina came to 
be buried near the walls of the chapel and in the 
garb of a nun will always remain the mystery it is. 
The discovery of the jeweled locket in her resting 
place, proved beyond doubt to the sorrowing par- 
ents and to Ramon that it was she who slept near 
the sanctified spot. They said that her presence, 
ever near her once happy home, often sought the 
places held sacred to her memory. They whis- 
pered also of her spirit voice mingling with the 
music of the mission bells which, borne on the 
breeze, wafted comforting messages to her loving 
friends. Rightly named “ Our Lady of Solitude,” 
for out of keeping with the sacredness of the spot 
would be activity and strife. 

Where once the bells of La Soledad were heard 
calling the faithful to worship, is now a strange 
isolation unbroken, save by the songs of the birds, 
or the winds plaintively whispering to those whose 
spirits are in harmony with the pervading sadness 
of the place of a romance unequalled for sorrow 
and gloom. How easy, then, to bring up a vision 
of the past and clothe it again with the mystery of 
La Soledad l 


(7) 


97 



























THE CHAPEL RUINS 


L, Of C. 


SAN FRANCISCO 


So short a time ago these hills 

The sand-storm blew and all was waste and drear. 

So short a time ago, through pains and ills , 

The good Francisco monks made resting here , 

And to St. Francis raised a cross to tell 
Who first unto these new shores came to dwell. 

To-day the city stretches far away , 

The hills of sand bloom like the cedar tree ; 

The tapering masts of nations crowd the bay , 

And she is crowned ‘ Queen of the sunset sea,’ 

While in her diadem such stars have gleamed 
Of which the good St. Francis never dreamed. 

' — Clarence Urtny. 


THE CHAPEL RUINS 


E ARLY in the century, and long before the 
Mexican War, Mission San Jose was visited 
by one of the worst storms ever known in its his- 
tory. The rain had continued without stopping for 
several days, and on the evening in question it 
increased in violence, and gave promise of raging 
with unabated fury far into the night. The wind 
twisted and tore the limbs of the trees, and howled 
and shrieked about the thick adobe walls of the 
houses till it seemed as if all the condemned had 
been let loose for a mad frolic in the inky black- 
ness which shrouded the land. The roads were 
like rivers, and washouts were reported in many 
places, making it very unsafe traveling. The 
ground for days had refused to absorb more water, 
but still, as if in derision, the storm-king held sway, 
and reveled in a power over which there was no 
control. Such a storm had not been known for 
years, and the old Spanish residents shook their 
heads and crossed themselves as each gust of wind 
tore through the trees and rattled the casements in 
wild effort to seek an entrance. 

In one of the oldest and largest adobe mansions 
in the neighborhood of the mission, the inmates 
were making ready for a great event, regardless of 


IOI 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


the fearful storm without. Lights were to be seen 
through the closed blinds in all parts of the house, 
and servants were busily going from room to room, 
as if on very important errands, and so it proved, for 
the beautiful and stately Carmelita Carrillo, only 
child of Don Pablo Carrillo, was to be married in a 
few days to a wealthy and handsome young Span- 
iard, the last of the noblfe line of Ortegas. Fer- 
nando Ortega came from Spain on a short visit to 
California, and on an almost hopeless quest for 
some documents relating to large estates in his 
country, which had been in litigation since his 
grandfather’s time, and long before Fernando was 
born. The papers were stolen and brought to this 
coast, as in late years he had reason to suppose, 
but all hope of recovering this great wealth for 
the rightful heir, without the documents, had for 
some time been abandoned. No one had sought 
in this country, and yet the old traditions were 
that the documents and an enemy of the Ortega 
house had disappeared about the same time. 

With Fernando’s desire to visit the new world, 
was a hope that he might find living some of the 
descendants of the man who, in a spirit of revenge, 
had deprived his ancestors of such valuable prop- 
erty. But on Fernando’s arrival in Monterey, he 
met at the home of the governor, the beautiful 
Carmelita Carrillo, and all interest in the precious 
documents were forgotten in his absorbing love for 
her ; but not so with Carmelita, who had heard the 


102 


THE CHAPEL RUINS 


story of the missing papers. The idea of a mys- 
tery pleased her, and when she laughingly told him 
he would find them yet in some unexpected place, 
his answer was that he wanted nothing more 
precious than herself to take back with him. The 
time had long past which was intended for his 
return to Spain, but having lost his heart, he also 
lost all desire to return without the queenly 
Carmelita as his wife. 

The Don, her father, was reluctant to part with 
his dear and only child, to have her go so far away 
from him ; he was growing old, and was not his 
wife buried in the mission cemetery, where he 
hoped to rest some day ? No, he could not possi- 
bly follow his daughter to Spain, and make a new 
home in his old age, and he could not give her up, 
so the wedding was deferred from time to time till 
almost a year had gone, and the young man grew 
impatient to take his bride and return to his own 
country, where he knew her beauty and stately 
manner would win for her, not only the admiration 
of the court, but also of all the grandees, in whose 
society his great wealth and standing would take 
her. The charming Carmelita was not averse to 
the glittering life she was so fitted to adorn, but 
she dearly loved her father, and could not be rec- 
onciled to leaving him lonely at his time of life ; 
so it was agreed that the young couple should 
spend one year of their honeymoon in Spain, and 
then return and live with Don Pablo his few 


103 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


remaining years. So now great preparations for 
the wedding were in progress despite the violence 
of the elements. 

Friends and relatives were expected from Mon- 
terey and Los Angeles, and some were even now 
on their way in storm-tossed sailing vessels. Anx- 
iety about their safe arrival, and the prospect of 
such unpleasant weather for her bridal, kept Car- 
melita from sleeping for several hours after she 
retired. She well knew if the weather continued 
violent it would prevent many of her people from 
coming who lived in the surrounding country and 
depended on horse and carrita, for the roads were 
in too serious condition to be traveled while the 
tempest lasted. The Carrillo house, as her home 
was called, did not always belong to her father. 
When the old Don bought the property, the house 
and grounds had been neglected for years. In 
fact the place had the reputation of being haunted, 
so it was not considered desirable. Don Pablo 
Carrillo, however, had no such superstitious notions, 
and Carmelita was delighted at the thought of liv- 
ing in a haunted house, so both were pleased with 
the purchase of the property from the heirs of the 
former owner, Don Jose Valencia. 

The secrecy surrounding the last days of Don 
Jose had given the place its ill-omened name. He 
had lived there alone with an old servant for many 
years, and instead of dying like a good Christian 
should, in his bed, he had simply disappeared and 


104 


THE CHAPEL RUINS 


the mystery of his sudden departure was a mystery 
still. As years went by the place was shunned, 
neglected and feared as the abode of evil spirits, 
who had made away with the old man. The house 
was old and rambling, for several additions had 
been built to it from time to time by Don Jose, 
the gentleman who had made his exit from the 
world in such a novel manner. While in posses- 
sion of Don Pablo Carrillo several more large 
rooms had been added and the older parts rebuilt, 
with the exception of the chapel, which was in such 
a ruinous state and so overgrown with ivy as to be 
bng past use. For the sake, however, of the 
ghostly associations which had enhanced the value 
of the residence in her eyes, Carmelita claimed that 
part of the building, and said it must not be dis- 
turbed. The house was surrounded by cultivated 
lands, and since Don Pablo had thinned the dense 
shrubbery, and let the daylight through, their 
superstitious neighbors felt that the evil spirits had 
been exorcised from their abode. 

From the windows of Carmelita’s apartments 
she could see the old chapel, and to her it was the 
most picturesque spot in the grounds. “ I never 
tire of it,” she was often heard to say. Her favor- 
ite seat was near a stone cross, moss-grown, and 
covered with vines, and from it she could see the 
thick walls and broken altar, now crumbled out of 
shape. It was here she loved to sit, and recall, in 
imagination, the time when the chapel was used for 

105 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

holy work ; and she wondered how many brides and 
penitents had crossed the threshold in its years of 
service. 

She had a feeling, she said, that the chapel she 
loved so well would bring her good luck, and she 
fervently wished she could be married among its 
ruins. Fernando said he was willing to be married 
there even if he did have to stand half bent under 
the broken walls, if only she would not delay the 
wedding longer. And it is likely her romantic 
desire would have been gratified if the tempest had 
not prevented. Such a storm ! She could not 
recall one like it in all her seventeen years of life. 
Thinking how unfortunate it was to have happened 
at this time of all others, Carmelita fell asleep at 
last, and dreamed that old Don Jose Valencia had 
appeared to her, holding the missing papers of 
the Ortega property in his hand. By morning, all 
traces of stormy weather had disappeared, and the 
sun shone bright and warm as if in gladness to be 
out again. It shone in Carmelita’s face, and awak- 
ened her just as Don Jose and the documents faded 
from her sight as she attempted to reach for them. 

Springing up, glad to see the sun once more, 
and hailing it as a good omen, she dressed and 
went to the window to see her chapel — the first 
thing she did every morning — but with one start- 
led look she rushed down and out of the house, 
through the wet and soaked shrubbery and grass, 
to where her beloved and picturesque ruins were. 


106 


V 



MISSION SANTA YNEZ 
Founded September 17, 1804 






















































. 

























THE CHAPEL RUINS 


There she found her chapel a complete wreck, all 
the beautiful vines had been torn away by the wind, 
and all but the thick wall which was built against 
the older part of the house had broken into a 
shapeless mass. Further, to her astonishment, in 
this thick wall she discovered an opening, which 
revealed stone steps that led down to a vault 
beneath the floor where the altar once stood. 

Here was a discovery, indeed. What might she 
not find? Perhaps the documents — the dream 
was still in her mind, and strangely impressed her. 
Wildly excited she ran back to the house, where 
she found Fernando, whom she had not seen for 
two days, and who had braved the dangers of the 
roads in the early morning to visit her. Without 
stopping for breath she excitedly told the story of 
her discovery of the chapel’s vault, and of her sin- 
gular dream, and urged her father and Fernando 
to open the place without delay. 

“ I am sure,” she exclaimed, “ you will find 
something worth all your trouble, I cannot rest till 
I know what it contains.” 

So, yielding to her persistent and enthusiastic 
mood, her father ordered the vault to be opened, 
and there, to the amazement of them all, was found 
the fleshless skeleton of a man, and near by, upon 
a little table was a small iron-bound box, with the 
key still in the rusty lock. Death had evidently 
overtaken this man while examining the contents 
of the chest. What more likely than to suppose 


107 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


that the mystery of Don Jose Valencia’s disap- 
pearance had been cleared up at last ? 

The chapel had given up a secret, but whose ? 
It remained for the box to tell. Eagerly it was 
opened, and proof established by papers therein, 
that it had belonged to Don Jose Valencia, who 
was never a Valencia at all, but Don Jose Vasquez, 
the enemy of the Ortega house, who had assumed 
the name of Valencia to cover up his guilt. And 
their astonishment grew as further search revealed 
the missing Ortega documents which would give to 
Fernando the valuable estates of his ancestors. 
Don Jose little thought in choosing this hiding 
place for the stolen papers, he was also preparing 
his tomb, or that the documents would, some day, 
be discovered to the rightful heirs. 

Through the power of a dream, and the havoc of 
a storm, Carmelita, the heroine of the occasion, 
was happy in being the instrument through which 
so much mystery had been revealed, and she mis- 
chievously told Fernando that she had been keep- 
ing his treasure for him, till, like a fairy prince, he 
should come to claim her. So, after all, the old 
chapel brought her good fortune and at the wed- 
ding a few days later, to which all the guests had 
safely arrived, the story of the romantic finding of 
the documents had to be told and retold, and 
proved of as much interest as the wedding itself. 

The year spent in Spain by Fernando and Car- 
melita was most delightful. Carmelita was admired 

108 


THE CHAPEL RUINS 


to Fernando’s satisfaction, and she thoroughly 
enjoyed the gay life of the older world. The doc- 
uments which Fernando produced, forever settled 
all dispute about the estates, and when he was 
placed in possession of them, he and Carmelita 
spent some weeks visiting in the old castles now 
become their property. 

On their return to their California home, Car- 
melita had the chapel ruins removed and over the 
place was set the stone cross, about which she 
planted vines to mark the spot which had been of 
such interest to her. After her father’s death, 
which occurred some years later, Carmelita and 
her husband sailed again for Spain, there to make 
their final home. 

The adobe mansion, about which clustered the 
facts for this romantic story, has long since crum- 
bled beneath the storms of many winters. Sadly 
but surely the changes come to these land marks, 
and, like the race who built them, they perish. It 
seems almost certain that in a few years not one: 
adobe ranch house will be left to stand as a monu- 
ment to the memory of the people who made the 
early history of California. 


109 


















SISTER DOLORES 


PADRE SERRA 


While Padre Serra's part long since was played \ 

His sepulcher is yet uncarved and rough ; 

Therein by friends in simple sorrow laid, 

Though honored some he's honored not enough. 

In ruined state his Missions stand to-day , 

A sad reproach to Time' s progressive hand; 

A mournful commentary on the way , 

The great are left forgotten by their land: 

And in my thoughts of him this came to me 
When thinking of the grave wherein he lies ; 

As none earned sculptured marble more than he , 

Here is a noble soul to canonize. 

One now can say , though he to fame was born , 
Here lies a man , great honors left forlorn. 

— “ Father Junipero Serra," Epilogue. 


SISTER DOLORES 


S UCH a glorious sunset as the evening prom- 
ised could not be found anywhere else in the 
world. Thus early. Nature, reveling in her artistic 
display, had touched here and there the fleecy white 
clouds with most brilliant colors ; and the stream- 
ing rays of the sun, as they dipped toward old 
ocean, did not lose themselves in the mighty 
waters, but shone again in a path of gold on the 
sparkling waves. 

The huge breakers, as they rolled in and dashed 
with a booming sound on the rocks, bore on their 
feathery crest a golden crown, reflecting all the 
delicate tints of the sea-shell in the misty spray 
thrown by the force of the waves high in the air, 
then, receding and repeating, over and over again, 
just as they had done for ages, always in motion, 
always moaning, and always enchantingly new to 
the lovers of the beautiful Monterey Bay. 

No part of the Pacific coast could surpass it in 
picturesqueness of scenery or the glory of its 
sunsets. So thought Leonita Moreno, as she 
looked longingly from the window toward the rocks 
on the shore, where she had promised to meet 
Felipe, and wander with him up and down the 
white sands while the day was declining. The 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


look of impatience deepened on her face as she 
heard a slight movement in the next room. 

“ Will she never go to sleep and leave me free 
to go ? ” murmured the girl, as she softly moved 
near the door and glanced in the direction of the 
bed. 

What she saw was an old woman, with a crown 
of snow-white hair, and though the aged face 
seemed drawn with pain, the expression was almost 
saintly, and, as her lips moved in prayer, she 
repeatedly pressed to them the small crucifix 
which she held in her hand. 

The slight noise made by Leonita disturbed the 
sick woman, who feebly asked for water. After 
drinking, she sank back, almost exhausted for a 
moment, then, recovering, she took the young 
girl’s hand in hers, fondly and lovingly smoothing 
it as she said : 

“ Leonita, my darling, this is a hard life for one 
so bright and beautiful as you ; to be tied to a sick 
old woman not of your blood ; but God will reward 
you, and the Holy Mother will bless you for your 
goodness to me. It pains me to see you look so 
sad. I have not heard your sweet songs, the tinkle 
of your guitar, or your bright and happy laugh, for 
days. It would do the old woman good to see the 
smiles chase the shadows away. You have been 
the comfort of my life, Lita, darling, since you 
were placed in my care, after your mother died. 
Too young to miss the loving mother, you soon 

1 14 


SISTER DOLORES 


won your way to my heart by your cunning little 
acts. Since then you have been to me as my own 
child.” 

“Not always, dear mother. Even now I have 
been impatient and cross because I could not go to 
meet Felipe, and I am an ungrateful girl for all 
your loving kindness ; but I will confess my faults 
to good Father Gaspar, and he will forgive me if I 
promise to do so no more.” 

“ Felipe ! — Felipe ! — do you love him, my 
child ? ” 

“ Oh 1 my mother, more than I can tell do I 
love him, and more, I fear, than he loves me, for 
he vows devotion to me and flirts with Inez, till my 
heart is almost broken. Is there nothing but sor- 
row and trouble in this world, dear mother ? ” 

“ All hearts have their trials, my child ; but you 
are much too young to have a shadow fall on your 
life. I would that you had never met Felipe and 
that he had not won your love — but go, my child, 
and meet him now, and I will rest awhile and pray 
that your life may be a happy one ; but know, my 
Leonita, that things we wish most for do not 
always prove our greatest blessings.” 

Leonita tenderly kissed the kind old woman and 
went sadly away, thinking how little she deserved 
the love of her adopted mother, and reproaching 
herself for her ill-natured impatience. Thought- 
fully she walked along the well-worn path to the 
beach, over which a short time ago she would so 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


eagerly have flown. As she approached the rock, 
where she was to meet Felipe, she heard voices. 
Could it be Felipe was waiting for her, when it was 
long oast the time she should have been there? 
And l o *vhom was he talking? What if it were 
Inez ? Could her jealous heart endure to see them 
together? Could she bear the mocking light in 
her rival's eyes which ever shone triumphant when 
she had been made unhappy? Stopping for a 
moment to wonder who were there, she quite 
plainly heard Felipe say : 

“ You know I love you, Inez, and when I am 
with you I forget all others. But you are cruel to 
me and play with my heart as you do with Jose's. 

“Why should I love you, Felipe, when you are 
Lita's affianced husband ? ” replied Inez. 

“But I am not and never will be, if you will 
love me,” answered Felipe. 

Poor Leonita ! She stood for a moment, incapa- 
ble of moving, then turned and made her way 
toward the old Carmelo church, and when she 
reached its friendly shadow, she sank upon the 
ground more dead than alive. 

For hours the poor child lay moaning and calling 
on the Virgin Mother for comfort. She did not 
heed the vesper bells of San Carlos, as, tunefully 
sweet, the sacred music of their chimes was wafted 
far over the valley. The beautiful sunset, the 
peaceful scene, had no power to interest her now. 
She did not heed that darkness had come, that 


116 



MISSION SAN CARLOS BORROMEO 








SISTER DOLORES 


night was far advanced, or that a fog was rolling 
in from the sea, which enveloped her as in a wind- 
ing sheet. Her mental sufferings were too great 
for her to realize where she was, or what she was 
doing, till the chill night air aroused her ; then she 
arose and groped her way through the thick fog to 
her home, which she entered like one dazed. 

Here the darkness and the stillness startled her 
and brought her mind back to the dear old woman 
left so long alone. Lighting a lamp she hastily 
entered her mother’s room, only to find the last 
spark of life had fled from the one being who truly 
loved her. 

The next morning Leonita was found, moaning 
in delirium, by the side of her dead friend. Kind 
sisters took care of her, but it was many days before 
she was able to know them ; then she turned her 
face to the wall and prayed to die. Kindly and 
patiently, the good sisters ministered to her with 
sweet sympathy and prayer, until she was once 
more restored to health, but not to happiness. 
Her poor white face, from which all light had fled, 
seemed more the face of a heart-broken woman 
than that of a young girl. 

Long before Leonita was able to mingle again 
with those of her own age, Felipe and Inez were 
married. She heard the wedding bells ring without 
a thought that it held any interest for her. No 
feeling of love had been in her heart for Felipe 
since that terrible night when she found her mother 

117 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


dead. Her companions wondered at her devotion 
to the memory of the old woman, as they saw her 
sitting, white and silent, by the grave. None but 
the sisters knew it was remorse for her seeming 
neglect of her mother on the night she died ; and 
Leonita could not be made to feel but that for her 
selfish love for Felipe her mother would have been 
living. “ My neglect killed her,” was ever her cry. 

Years passed on; many changes came to the 
place, and into the lives of the people — but 
none so great as the change to the once sad-looking 
Leonita. Visitors to Monterey often met and 
heard of the beautiful, sweet-faced sister, who went 
about helping all those who were in sickness and 
trouble. No task was too great for her to accom- 
plish, and there was no death-bed at which she did 
not appear, like an Angel of Mercy — for Sister 
Dolores, as Leonita was called, had found in her 
ministration to others the true happiness of life. 


118 


THE WEDDING RING 









THE PACIFIC FROM CYPRESS POINT 


The sun while sinking in the distant west , 

Was by the cumulus and stratus veiled ; 

And in those vapor barriers prevailed 
The wondrous tints , eve's hour makes manifest. 
Outspreading like gigantic airy fans , 

The streaming rays through fleecy rifts to me 
Appeared, above the still Pacific sea ; 

Reflecting golden shadows on the sands. 

The scene , my mind so gently did enchain. 

That I sang out our Padre' s evening psalm ; 

The Father joined me in the sweet refrain , 

And o' er my soul there came a rest so calm ; 

For in that song my feelings found release, 

And life for once seemed one of perfect peace. 

— “ Father Juniper o Serra,” Act II, Scene I. 


THE WEDDING RING 


D ON Alfonso Gonzales, with his wife and 
daughter, had been hastily summoned to 
the death-bed of old Don Rafael. The messenger 
said the old man was sinking fast, and urged them 
to lose no time in preparations if they would see 
the Don alive. 

The rain had poured in torrents all day and the 
roads were almost impassable. To add to the 
unpleasantness of a ten-mile drive over such a dan- 
gerous highway was the fact that night was closing 
in, dark and cold. A penetrating wind found its 
way through the thickest garment, denying to the 
wearer the comfort of its protection from the 
dampness and chillness of a long and terrible 
night’s ride. 

If they arrived safely, it was more than the 
Senora Gonzales expected. There were many dan- 
gers in taking this drive even by daylight after such 
a storm. But at night, and in the darkness, it was 
terrifying ! She was sure they would be overturned 
and thrown down some dreadful abyss and killed. 
“ Why, of all the nights in the calendar, should 
Don Rafael choose this one to pass from life,” 
she mentally asked. “ And why had he sent for 
her?” She had met him but a few times, and 


121 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


then was not favorably impressed with the old 
man, who for years had lived almost the life of a 
recluse. “ What could he want of her daughter, 
Christina, whom he had never seen ? ” Such ques- 
tions puzzled the Senora greatly. Don Alfonso 
did not stop to consider the condition of the roads, 
the alarming weather or the state of his wife’s 
mind. The old man wanted them to come to him 
on this last evening of his life, and he said he 
would go much farther and on a worse night for 
Don Rafael had he been asked to do so. To the 
Senora Gonzales, Don Alfonso’s word was law and 
she knew, while making a protest against leaving 
the comforts of her fireside, that the journey must 
be made. 

To Christina, her daughter, the night’s ride was 
not without interest. The strangeness of the visit 
excited her curiosity, and nothing quite so much to 
her fancy had ever occurred before. She greatly 
loved change and excitement, and little enough of 
that had she been allowed in her school life. She 
had come from the convent a few days before for 
a short vacation, and was to return on the morrow. 
Now the novelty of a night’s ride to Don Rafael’s 
rancho had happily intervened to prolong the time 
of her return. 

Don Rafael’s house was situated near the coast, 
some distance north from San Diego, and in a 
wildly picturesque spot. He owned the land for 
many miles about that charming location, and it 


122 



* 


MISSION SAN DIEGO DE ALCALA 
Founded July 16, 1769 





THE WEDDING RING 

was seldom, in the quiet life he led, that he cared 
to visit other ranchos. His books, his horses, his 
dogs, and a few faithful servants were all the com- 
panions he wished to have. Some people said old 
Don Rafael was in league with evil ones, and that 
was the reason he did not wish his son to live with 
him. Strange sights and sounds, they declared, had 
been seen and heard about the old man's place at 
night, which could not be accounted for by the 
believers in supernatural agencies. To all this idle 
talk, however, Don Alfonso gave no heed. He 
knew how strangely sad Don Rafael’s life had been 
since the death of his wife, to whom he was pas- 
sionately devoted. Manuel, his child, who resem- 
bled his mother in looks and disposition, would 
have been to his father a constant reminder of his 
great loss. This fact and the parent’s sad and 
broken life, which, he felt, would affect the happi- 
ness of the boy, were the chief reasons, Don 
Alfonso was convinced, why Don Rafael persist- 
ently refused to see his son. After Don Rafael’s 
affliction he had discouraged all visitors to his house 
excepting Don Alfonso ; with him he kept up a 
peculiar friendship, never returning any of Don 
Alfonso’s visits, but always insisting that Don 
Alfonso should at intervals repeat his. 

This son and only child Don Rafael had not seen 
since the lad was twelve years old. After the 
death of the boy’s mother Don Rafael had taken 
his son to Mexico and placed him in school, giving 


123 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

his wife’s brother entire charge of him until he 
should wish him to return. Fourteen years had 
passed since then, and in all that time Don Rafael 
had expressed no wish to see Manuel. He kept 
the young man well supplied with money, and took 
an interest in all his studies and pursuits by writ- 
ing him regularly and often. When Manuel sug- 
gested a visit to his father Don Rafael replied, 
saying that he chose to live alone and did not care 
for the society of a young man or the company he 
would bring to his house. After this letter, saying 
his presence was not desired, Manuel never again 
asked to visit his father. But now, on this night, 
when Don Alfonso and his family, in haste to 
reach Don Rafael’s death-bed, were braving untold 
dangers to do so, Manuel was hastening from 
another direction to the same place. The over-due 
vessel in which he came, should have reached port 
two days before had not the storm prevented. On 
his arrival in San Diego, however, he found a trusty 
servant with horses awaiting him with the message 
that his father was dying and that he must ride 
with all speed if he would see him before he 
breathed his last. 

The Senora Gonzales never forgot the terrors of 
that night’s ride. The darkness was intense. It 
was only by the servant and Don Alfonso taking 
turns and walking before the carrita with a light 
that they could make any headway at all. The 
Mexican showed no love for this adventure. He 


124 


THE WEDDING RING 


had his own opinions of Don Rafael and would 
much prefer going from, than towards his house, 
but Don Alfonso’s spirit of determination to push 
ahead despite all obstacles gave the rest of the 
party no chance to do otherwise than make the 
best of what they could not prevent. Even Chris- 
tina was willing to turn back when she found how 
hard it was for her mother to endure such a jour- 
ney. Shivering with cold and fear the Senora 
Gonzales clung closely to her daughter, expecting 
every moment to meet some horrible form of death. 
Thus, alternately imploring the protection of the 
saints and trying to comfort her mother, Christina 
passed her time till they reached the long and 
wooded entrance to Don Rafael’s home. At last 
her mother began to feel more composed, in the 
hope of a safe termination to their journey, which 
fact gave Christina an opportunity to look about 
her. 

It was indeed a weird place to visit after the 
hour of midnight. A dense forest of trees and a 
tangle of undergrowth was all she could see by the 
aid of their light. Dripping branches stretched 
their great arms over the road, as they suddenly 
entered the wide arroyo, almost sweeping them from 
the path. Owls hooted at them from a distance 
and the multitude of bats which gathered about the 
light followed after like a band of ill-omened spirits. 
Frightful noises, unlike anything they had ever 
heard, greeted them as they penetrated the thick 


125 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


blackness of the place made intense by the heavy 
growth of chaparral. The wind whistled, then 
sobbed and moaned, to their imagination, like 
souls in torment. These awful sounds, coming 
closer and closer till it seemed to them that they 
were entirely surrounded with demons, then, with 
a startled shriek, the noise would die away to a low 
moan of distress, or, what to them was worse, a 
mirthless and fiendish laugh. The effect produced 
by this combination of reports and echoes and the 
surrounding darkness of the place was paralyzing. 
The terror of Senora Gonzales and the old servant 
increased till they both prostrated themselves and 
cried aloud to the saints and to the Holy Mother 
for protection. 

Christina, with chattering teeth, could not speak 
from fright, and even Don Alfonso’s great courage 
appeared to desert him for a moment. At last 
they saw the welcome light from the old Don’s 
house through the trees and knew they were 
almost at the end of their fearful ride. The 
Senora Gonzales felt that the nearness to the 
Don’s residence was little comfort ; she was sure 
more dreadful things were yet to happen before 
the long night was over. Christina, with much of 
her father’s spirit, bravely encouraged her mother 
to feel that all trouble was now past. Conse- 
quently, the Senora’s dismay largely left her as 
she was lifted out of the carreta at the door of Don 
Rafael’s house. 


126 


THE WEDDING RING 


A good fire, refreshments, and the feeling that 
they were all safe for the present wonderfully 
cheered the Senora’s spirits, but she mentally reg- 
istered a vow that she would never allow her hus- 
band to dictate to her again what she must or 
must not do. No, not if it were a summons from 
the king, should Don Alfonso make her repeat that 
ride. All unconscious that the reign of his author- 
ity over the Senora was at an end, Don Alfonso 
hastily drank a cup of coffee, then asked to be 
taken to Don Rafael’s room, while the Senora and 
her daughter reposed on the couches before the 
fire, enjoying a much needed siesta. 

The clock was striking two and the wind, which 
had calmed down, was beginning to shriek and 
howl dismally again as Don Alfonso re-entered the 
room and aroused his wife to prepare her for that 
which was to follow. The poor Senora, still liv- 
ing over the last few hours in her dreams, started 
up in alarm. Utterly forgetting her vow to be 
firm with her husband, she frantically implored him 
not to ask her to go through further trying ordeals. 
Don Alfonso calmed her excitement and then 
informed her that Padre Anselmo of San Louis 
Rey Mission was in the sick room, and Manuel, 
the old Don’s son, who arrived a short time before 
them, had since been sitting by his fathers’s bed. 

“ On my entrance,” said Don Alfonso, “ Don 
Rafael informed me he had sent for us for the pur- 
pose of asking our daughter’s hand in marriage for 

v. 


127 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

his son, Manuel, and as he had but a few hours to 
live, he wished the ceremony to take place at once 
if agreeable to our wishes. He also said his son 
would inherit his vast wealth, and was in every 
way worthy to be the husband of our daughter. 
When I mentioned Christina’s extreme youth and 
that possibly Manuel might object to marrying a 
girl he had never seen, Don Rafael replied, saying 
that Manuel understood and would do as he 
wished, and that Christina was fifteen, an age 
at which many girls were married. 

“ She is such a child,” said the Senora, tearfully 
protesting against such a grewsome wedding for 
her daughter. “ I cannot consent to it. No good 
will come of this night’s work, Alfonso, and I wish 
we had never come to this dreadful place.” But 
to all the Senora’s objections Don Alfonso would 
remind her of the old Don’s great wealth, and the 
advantage it would be to their daughter and that he 
had other children to provide for besides Christina. 

Reluctantly the Senora Gonzales consented 
when she found she could not do otherwise, then, 
at a hasty summons to the sick room, saying 
there was no time to lose, she awakened her 
sleeping child, to prepare her for a marriage which 
she felt boded no good to any of them. 

Christina, frightened, bewildered and half awake, 
could not understand at first why they disturbed 
her slumber, but when she realized what they were 
saying, and her father had told her the marriage 


128 


THE WEDDING RING 


was for the best, she answered not a word, but 
silently followed her parents to Don Rafael’s room, 
trembling with fright at the strange proceedings. 

Without glancing at each other Manuel and 
Christina took their places by the old man’s bed as 
they were bidden, and the ceremony began. When 
it came to the ring, Don Rafael, with shaking fin- 
gers handed to Manuel his mother’s wedding ring, 
which he took from a box of sparkling jewels 
by his side. During the long ceremony Manuel 
stood motionless. If he made any responses they 
were not heard above the noise of the wind without, 
and the hand which held that of his bride was cold 
as the touch of ice to the shrinking girl. Christina, 
hardly able to stand from fear, ventured timidly one 
glance in Manuel’s face, but quickly shrank in terror 
from him as she saw the look of horror and despair 
it wore. 

A lull in the storm for a moment made the still- 
ness in the room profound, as good Father 
Anselmo finished the ceremony and gave the hus- 
band and wife his blessing. Don Rafael then 
feebly stretched forth his hand over the bowed 
heads in benediction, and immediately after sank 
back on his pillow, dead. 

Just then the wind, as if waiting for a fitting 
climax to this most unholy wedding, came with a 
fearful blast, — wailing, shrieking, moaning, it tore 
at the casements as if eager to enter and possess 
itself of the old man’s soul. The branches of the 


( 9 ) 


129 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

trees, bending in the storm and wildly lashing the 
house, made unearthly and direful sounds as the 
wind in its fury shook them too and fro. 

“ It is a warning that the wicked spirit of the 
dead man is going to some horrible torture,” 
thought Senora Gonzales. This omen of misfor- 
tune was fraught with such a terrible meaning to 
her that she shuddered with fright and nervous- 
ness. The effect on Christina of the sudden death 
was also such as to make her lose all control over 
herself, and like her mother she shrieked and 
sobbed with the wind as Don Alfonso hurried 
them from the room, and bade them retire to rest. 

He then returned to close the eyes of his dead 
friend and summon the servants to perform the sad 
and last work for their old master. On re-entering 
the room he found Padre Anselmo vainly endeav- 
oring to comfort and console Manuel, who seemed 
for the time almost frenzied with grief. Shaking 
with sobs he had thrown himself down by his 
father’s bed, wildly imploring his father’s forgive- 
ness and begging for his blessing. With patient 
kindness and unremitting attention the priest at 
last soothed and helped him to overcome in a 
measure his frantic grief, then induced him to seek 
repose. Sleep did not come to Manuel, however, 
as the watchers below knew, for they heard his 
footsteps till the break of day, as he walked back 
and forth in the room above the one where Don 
Rafael died. 


130 


THE WEDDING RING 


At a late breakfast, to which Father Anselmo 
and Don Alfonso alone were present, Manuel soon 
made his appearance. The young man’s face, 
white and drawn, looked as if years of suffering 
had made it so. He did not ask after his bride 
and her mother, and took no notice of his guests 
other than to say that he wished to see them alone 
for a short time after the meal was over. In 
silence he drank his coffee, then passed, with 
Father Anselmo and Don Alfonso, into the next 
room. 

Hesitating for a moment and speaking with diffi- 
culty, he asked if any of the servants knew of the 
marriage which had taken place the night before. 
When told they did not, he requested that no one 
be informed of it till after the funeral, which would 
take place the next day. When that was over he 
had a confession to make to them both. “ The 
funeral services,” he said, “ will be from the chapel 
on the place, and the remains will afterwards be 
placed in the family vault near by.” Manuel then 
asked as a favor that Don Alfonso would make all 
necessary arrangements for his father’s interment. 
Upon getting Don Alfonso’s consent that all 
should be as he wished, Manuel left the room and 
was 1 not seen by any of the family again that day. 

Senora Gonzales awoke unrefreshed, her sleeping 
moments had been visited by hideous dreams in 
which she had lived over and over again all the 
terrors of the past night. Awake, she seemed to 

131 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


feel the phantom spirit of Don Rafael hovering 
over her with evil intent. She could not throw off 
the impression that more misfortune was to follow, 
and said if it were not for Father Anselmo’s pres- 
ence nothing should keep her in the house another 
day. Don Alfonso, more disturbed than he cared 
to own, by Manuel’s request, had enjoined his wife 
and daughter to make no mention of the midnight 
marriage to any one without his permission. This, 
to the Senora Gonzales, was still another proof that 
nothing but harm could come to them while in the 
old Don’s home. 

Too indisposed to leave her room, the Senora, 
attended by her daughter, spent the greater part 
of her time invoking the protection of the saints to 
save them from further suffering. The strangeness 
of the position of the little bride, wedded to a man 
she did not know and who had taken no interest in 
her, was enough to keep her by her mother’s side. 
Manuel’s avoidance of them all was a comfort to 
her. She dreaded to meet him and prayed that 
her parents would not leave her with her husband 
when they left for their home. She had seen 
Manuel from her window that morning and her 
fear of him was not so great when she saw what a 
handsome and manly looking gentleman he was, 
but the recollection of that look of hopeless sorrow 
which shadowed his face and shone with such 
horror from his dark eyes proved to her that he 
had not been a willing party to his marriage. 


132 


THE WEDDING RING 


A few old acquaintances and some curious neigh- 
bors attended the old Don’s funeral, but Manuel 
and Don Alfonso were the only mourners. The 
Senora, still indisposed from fatigue and hysteria, 
could not be induced to enter the chapel while the 
old man was above ground, and Christina willingly 
remained with her mother. 

When Don Rafael had been laid to rest by the 
side of his wife, Manuel sought Father Anselmo 
and Don Alfonso in the room where his father 
died. Seating himself near the Father and 
hoping thereby to gain help and courage through 
him for the confession he was about to make, 
Manuel began : “ Don Alfonso, I ask that you will 
be patient and hear to the end my confession and 
also the story I have to relate before you interrupt 
or pass judgment upon me. I have done a great 
wrong and any atonement I can make to the last 
farthing of my property would I willingly give if 
money could wipe out this insult to you and yours 
in the crime I have committed. I confess to you 
in grief and shame, Don Alfonso, that when I took 
your daughter’s hand in mine to make her my wife, 
the night my father died, I was already a married 
man. The day before I left Mexico to join my 
father, to whom I was hurriedly summoned, I 
wedded the daughter of my mother’s life-long 
friend, trusting I could soften my father’s preju- 
dice against her, while in attendance on him. I 
then little dreamed he was so near death. I had 


i33 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


hoped I should have many days with him before 
he passed away. On my arrival I was soon con- 
vinced he had only a few hours to live. I could 
not then mention what I knew would excite and 
irritate him, but when, to my horror, I found he 
had arranged a marriage for me to take place by his 
death-bed you can imagine my feelings. You were 
momentarily expected and, God forgive me, I hoped 
he would die before you came. When I protested 
to my father against such a marriage, he said if I 
valued his blessing more than his curse, I would do 
as he wished. I saw his growing excitement and 
Father Anselmo, who did not understand my 
reluctance to the marriage, said the agitation and 
my refusal would be fatal. He, therefore, begged 
me to comply with the request. The consequence 
of my refusal I saw only too well. The dread of 
his curses and the knowledge that I should hasten 
his death, prevented my speaking further ; just 
then you came into the room and my father 
acquainted you with his desires. 

“ Remember,” continued Manuel, “I had no 
time to speak with Father Anselmo alone, for my 
father insisted that I should remain constantly by 
his side. Had I known of his intentions to have 
us married at his bedside, I would have remained 
away until after his death, but I was kept in ignor- 
ance till the last moment and no choice given me 
but to go through the ceremony or take my father’s 
curses and be the means of his untimely death. 


134 


THE WEDDING RING 


Too bewildered to think or act intelligently in my 
frenzied state of mind, I could only pray that time 
would make it plain what was best to be done 
when all was over. Don Alfonso,” said Manuel, 
with an effort, “ let me now explain to you why I 
so hastily married on the eve of my departure from 
Mexico. 

“ On my twenty-first birthday my uncle placed 
in my hand a letter addressed to me, written by 
my mother a few weeks before she died. In this 
letter she informed me of the existence of a feud 
between my father and Don Horacio Gaspar, caused 
by trouble over some property in which my father 
won the suit. My mother said she always felt that 
Don Horacio had been wronged out of his land, 
but he had no proof other than his word that he 
had years before paid a large sum of money for it. 
The papers, relating to the transaction, were acci- 
dentally destroyed before being recorded, and the 
scoundrel from whom he bought the land, learning 
of their loss, denied the sale to Don Horacio. 
While they were still disputing my father, knowing 
nothing of it, bought the property and took posses- 
sion. He who would not willingly have wronged 
Don Horacio out of the land always believed 
that Don Horacio brought the suit to worry and 
annoy him for some fancied slight. This trouble 
my father, in his morbid condition, brooded over 
constantly and my mother was forbidden to visit at 
Don Horacio’s house or receive the visits of her 


135 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


dear friend, Don Horatio’s wife. This so grieved 
my mother, who had never been separated from 
her friend for a single day of her life, that she 
became ill and my father determined to leave Mex- 
ico and settle in California rather than allow the 
visits of these friends to continue. It was a hard 
and cruel blow for my mother to be taken from all 
the associations that made her life so complete and 
be compelled to live in a new and rough country 
almost without companionship. She devotedly 
loved my father but she ever felt he had wronged 
her as well as her friends by his most unjust sus- 
picions. When my father left Mexico he bought 
this land and built this fine old house. I was five 
years old at that time, and Carlota Gaspar, the 
daughter of my mother’s dear companion, was not 
quite two years of age. A short time before the 
misfortune which separated my mother and Senora 
Gaspar they had laughingly betrothed us and gave 
to each other a promise to do all they could to 
further our love and marriage when we had reached 
a proper age. 

“ It occurred to my mother when she was dying 
that this marriage would bring back into the family 
of Don Horacio the property he had lost, and thus 
in a measure repay them for all they had suffered 
through my father’s unjust suspicions. Thinking 
thus, she wrote the letter, mentioning the youthful 
betrothal and asking that when I knew her wishes 
I would seek to know and love Carlota Gaspar, 


136 


THE WEDDING RING 


whom, she was sure, would be as lovely as her 
mother, providing my affections were not other- 
wise engaged. If they were, she said she left 
me her blessing, and prayed that by some act of 
kindness I might undo the wrong from which her 
friends had suffered. She said she had asked my 
father to send me back to her old home in Mexico 
after she was dead, and she trusted he would do so. 

“I well remember my mother and the many 
talks we had in regard to my future, but I cannot 
recollect that she ever mentioned her friend’s name 
or the name of her daughter, Carlota. She was 
too loyal to influence my young mind against my 
father by expressing to me then her desire ; but 
afterwards, when I was of age and had the right to 
choose for myself, her wishes were revealed to me 
in the letter left in my uncle’s care. Fate willed I 
should not see or know Carlota Gaspar till I was 
twenty-one, and had read my mother’s letter. Don 
Horacio and his family had been some years in Spain 
before my mother died. This knowledge I now 
think my father had gained and it influenced him 
to favor my mother’s request that I should be 
educated in Mexico. 

“ When Carlota Gaspar and I met, after so many 
years, it was as strangers, but I soon learned to 
know and love her, for she was as charming in 
mind as she was beautiful in person. I was deeply 
in love with her, but I was not so sure of her 
affections. She had many suitors, and I from time 


137 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


to time put off knowing my fate for fear of her 
rejection of me. Finally, rendered desperate by 
the attentions of others to her, I risked all and 
learned her love was all my own. In my gladness 
I wrote to my father and asked his consent to our 
marriage. Carlota’s father was dead, and I felt 
with his death must have died my father’s hatred 
for him. I did not dream it could extend to the 
wife or child, after so many years had passed. We 
had often spoken of the trouble, and Carlota and 
her mother advised me to write to him before 
making the engagement public. But when my 
father’s answer came, it was like a blow. He for- 
bade me to marry the daughter of his worst enemy 
if I wished to inherit his great wealth and receive 
his blessing. Knowing his hard and unbending 
will and how little hope it gave that he would 
relent, I was in despair, but Senora Gaspar soothed 
me by saying we were young and could wait a few 
years longer. She said my father, grown morose 
by living so much alone, had nursed and inflamed 
his hatred till he was completely absorbed in the 
venom of it. He was growing very old and the 
knowledge that he had not many years to live 
might soften his feelings towards us if we waited. 
She did not care for his money, she added, but she 
would not wish our young lives darkened by the 
inheritance of his curse. So we deferred our 
marriage from year to year, hoping almost against 
hope that he would relent, but happy in our great 


138 


THE WEDDING RING 


love for each other which no shadow of his curse 
could kill. In each letter I wrote my father I 
implored his consent to our union, and in each 
answer to mine he made no mention of the one 
subject I wished him to write about. I began to 
grow disheartened when his letter came, urging 
me to return without delay; he said he had not 
long to live and wanted to see me settled in life by 
marrying the daughter of an old friend and neigh- 
bor of his, before he passed away. It was out of 
the question for me to love another even to please 
my father, and knowing he would insist on my 
obeying him, I placed it out of his power to do so 
by my marriage to Carlota. 

“ I intended, as I said before, to tell him at the 
first opportunity after my arrival, hoping by my 
devotion to him to soften his heart, but, as you 
know, I found him at death’s door and was allowed 
no chance to speak for fear of breaking his last 
thread of life. Had he lived a few months, as 
I expected, I should have braved his curses, for I 
know my kindness and attention to him and the 
sight of my mother’s tear-stained letter to me 
would have softened a heart of stone. But the 
curses of dying lips I was not brave enough to 
invoke. I deceived him into giving me his blessing 
at the last, but the consciousness of it is no solace 
to me now. The crime I have committed will 
forever destroy my happiness. I almost lost my 
life before reaching here on that dark and stormy 


139 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


night, and you, Don Alfonso, braved dangers that 
on another occasion would have proved the death 
of your party. Why fate should conspire to bring 
us here on time I cannot imagine. It seems as if 
all the demons of hell were in league on that wild 
night to entrap me in this network of trouble,” 
continued the young man, wringing his hands in 
anguish. “ My poor Carlota, my poor Carlota ! ” 
cried he in great excitement, “ would I had been 
lost in the storm that almost sunk our ship than 
live to face this awful crime. I have sinned 
beyond forgiveness. I have wrecked the life of 
my dear Carlota. I have ruined the happiness 
of your beautiful daughter, and I see no way out 
of this great trouble,” exclaimed he, wildly, “but 
for me to die! 

“ Don Alfonso,” he said, but now more calmly, 
“you have most patiently heard' me to the end, 
which was more than I had a right to expect, and 
I now place myself entirely at your mercy. If my 
blood can wipe out this act of mine, it is yours,” 
said Manuel, with the calmness of despair. 

“Stop, my son,” said Father Anselmo, rising 
and placing his hand on the bowed head of Manuel. 
“Stop, my son,” repeated the venerable father. 
“Talk not of shedding blood. You have been in 
sore straits, and grievously tempted to do wrong, 
but your repentance and your sufferings will atone 
for much. Though most unworthy as we are to 
receive them, our mistakes are ofttimes returned 


140 


THE WEDDING RING 


to us in blessings through the intercession of the 
saints and by the medium of confession and con- 
stant prayer. We must now undo, as far as we 
can, the wrong you were driven to commit. But 
now let Don Alfonso speak.’ 1 

“ Manuel,” said Don Alfonso, gravely, “ I wish 
I might recall the mistakes of this fatal night for 
your sake as well as my own. I do not want your 
life. I saved it once when you were a child, and I 
could not take it now, though I confess there was 
murder in my heart when you began your confes- 
sion. I cannot hold myself entirely blameless, 
Manuel, for the prospect of your great wealth for 
my daughter influenced me against the tears and 
the pleadings of my wife, who predicted that noth- 
ing good would come of such a marriage to any of 
us. I will take my punishment for I deserve it as 
much as you do, and to my wife and daughter I 
will explain that the marriage was not legal, and 
nothing further will ever be mentioned concerning 
it. My daughter will return to the convent where 
we once had hopes of her taking vows. She may 
be willing to do so now,” said Don Alfonso, sadly. 

“ Don Alfonso,” said Manuel, grasping his hand, 
“ you are a noble and generous man and God will 
reward you for the forbearance you have shown 
me, but do not, I pray you, influence your daugh- 
ter to a convent life, because of that night’s work. 
I will gladly give her half my fortune and with it 
she can do much good.” 


141 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


“No, Manuel, I will not take your money for 
my daughter ; my eagerness to secure it once has 
taught me a bitter lesson. It might entail a curse 
to touch it now. Return to your wife, Manuel, 
and happiness and peace will come to you in time. 
We may never meet again, but before we part I 
wish you to feel that I have no enmity towards you, 
and I wish you a long and happy life with the wife 
of your choice.” 

Soon after his farewell to Manuel, Don Alfonso 
ordered his conveyance and set out for home. The 
storm was over. The afternoon sun shone warm 
and bright and the birds, merrily singing, were 
almost bursting their little throats with joy at the 
brightness of the day. Little praiseful songs they 
were full of gladness and hope. As note after 
note poured forth the playful breezes caught them 
up and joined in the carol that went singing 
through the trees, rustling and fluttering the 
leaves in perfect harmony with the music of the 
birds. The recently washed foliage of the man- 
zanita shone and sparkled with a luster almost 
like glass, and the birds, as they sang in their fairy 
bowers, coquettishly turned their bright eyes from 
side to side as if beholding the reflection of their 
beauty mirrored in the glossy surface of the 
leaves. 

The long limbs of the oaks and sycamores 
which, on that dark night stretched their great 
lengths over the road and wildly and tragically 


142 


THE WEDDING RING 


waved a warning to Senora Gonzales, as she 
entered the old Don’s grounds, now hung motion- 
less over the path. But the commotion made by 
the carnival of songsters reveling in their dark 
green depths proved to the Senora that they were 
inhabited by more harmless spirits than she imag- 
ined them to contain when they first passed 
beneath their giant boughs. 

The Senora was happy, happier than she ever 
expected to be again after her nights of terror. 
Her prayers, she felt, had been answered, for she 
was leaving that abode of unfriendly spirits without 
further harm to her family — her cherished daughter 
was by her side. Why it was Christina had not 
been asked to remain with her husband, the Senora 
did not know, and for the present did not care. 
She was too overjoyed in taking her daughter 
away to worry about the future. Don Alfonso 
had not enlightened her in regard to the mystery of 
Christina’s going or staying before they started, 
and she would not ask him now. 

Thinking regretfully over the happenings of the 
last few days, the Don silently drove his horses 
along the road over which he had gone so many 
times at Don Rafael’s invitation. He felt grieved 
and disappointed over the result of his last visit. 
How to make his wife understand that the mar- 
riage was no marriage without telling her too 
much, perplexed and bothered him sorely. They 
were well on their way toward home before he 


143 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


could bring himself to speak on the subject. When 
the Senora heard that the marriage was illegal 
and Christina had been told that she was still 
Christina Gonzales, Don Alfonso then said that the 
consequences of their midnight visit to the old 
Don’s must ever remain a secret among them. He 
wished them never to mention the unfortunate 
marriage to him, or discuss it between themselves. 
Christina, he added, would return to the convent 
the next day, and he hoped in her school life she 
would forget her late experience. 

During Don Alfonso’s charge to his wife and 
daughter the Senora frequently made the sign of 
the cross. She still felt that the evil spirit of the 
old Don had not been far away and would continue 
to follow them. Here again was some new and 
strange mystery to forever haunt her. She knew 
how useless it was to further question her husband 
and the great satisfaction she could have received 
by reminding Don Alfonso that she had said noth- 
ing good could come from such a marriage, was 
lost in consequence of the perplexing questions now 
in her mind regarding it. 

Christina, thoroughly mystified and awed into 
silence by the earnestness of her father’s manner, 
sat clasping and unclasping her tiny hands beneath 
her mantle. The presence of the wedding ring on 
her finger had not been forgotten by her for a 
moment, and she said to herself, as she slowly 
turned the ring about, “ If I am not Manuel’s wife, 


144 


THE WEDDING RING 


I have no right to wear this ring, but I have a right 
to know why the marriage was not legal, and I 
intend to find out some day. If my father does 
not remember and ask me for it, I will keep it and 
it may be the means of my learning the secret of 
that hasty union.” Christina had too much of her 
father’s nature to tamely submit to the dictation 
which her mother received so meekly. She felt, 
child as she was, that her youth and ignorance had 
been taken advantage of for some selfish purpose, 
and in her little heart she rebelled against the 
injustice of being chosen for such an end. 

She was very beautiful and an unusually bright 
girl for her years. But she had her ideas of what 
a courtship and wedding should be, and to her 
mind it was nothing at all like the strange scene in 
which she had taken part. The admiring glances 
she had received from the gaily dressed young men 
who dashed by her window on horseback, had 
taught her that the horrified gaze from Manuel’s 
eyes was not love or admiration. His sad face she 
could never forget or even one detail of that night 
of terror, no matter what her father’s orders had 
been. She believed she and Manuel were both 
victims of old Don Rafael’s wicked designs. What- 
ever plot the old man had in view Christina was 
satisfied that Manuel had no part in it. The look 
of suffering on his face had revealed that plainly 
to her. “ What beautiful eyes he has,” thought 
she, recovering her spirits and laughing softly to 


(io) 


145 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


herself, “ but I am very glad that my name is still 
Christina Gonzales. 

“ Yes, my father has forgotten the ring, so I will 
keep it and wear it on a ribbon around my neck, 
then I shall have a secret about the handsome 
Manuel as well as he. Such a fortunate girl as I 
am,” reasoned Christina mischievously, “ I have 
always loved a mystery, and here is one all my own. 
I think I must have inherited my father’s love for 
secrets and his talent for keeping them,” continued 
she, still thinking as she demurely veiled her roguish 
eyes and promised to obey her father’s commands 
never to speak of that night’s experience to any 
one. “ But,” she vowed to herself, “ I will wear 
this talisman to remind me of my promise, and if I 
can I will try and forget that Manuel has such 
lovely eyes.” 

Christina’s ring was safe from discovery. When 
she returned to school the next day, it hung from 
a silken cord about her neck. Still the memory of 
a sad face and the secret ending of the unhappy 
marriage often came between her and her studies. 
In vain were all her efforts to keep the promise 
and banish in forgetfulness the events of that 
wretched night. She wondered if the ring did not 
do as much towards keeping her interest in the 
mystery alive as it reminded her to forget. And 
yet nothing would have induced her to part with 
the charm so closely connected with her strange 
and tragic romance. 


146 


THE WEDDING RING 


Two years or more had passed since Don Rafael’s 
death, and in that time Christina had but twice 
heard Manuel’s name mentioned. It was while at 
home for her vacation that she learned from the 
gossip of the servants that Manuel had closed his 
father’s house soon after the funeral and returned 
to Mexico. Then at another time she heard he 
had married and gone abroad with his wife. As 
time passed Christina’s desire to learn more about 
her marriage increased, but her opportunity to do 
so was limited. The secret was not shared by 
many and her father was the only one she could 
ask. She knew from him there was nothing to 
expect. But the ring would surely some day place 
her in possession of the information which her 
father withheld. So, with perfect faith in her tal- 
isman to unravel for her this mystery, Christina 
patiently waited. Greatly to the disappointment 
of her father and mother, Christina did not take 
kindly to a convent life. She loved the sisters and 
was interested in their work, but said she felt too 
worldly to take the holy vows. After four years 
of school life she returned to her home. 

Bright, beautiful and with many accomplishments 
to add a value to her natural charms, Christina was 
a brilliant addition to the society of the gay Span- 
ish colony. She rode and danced and sang with 
an attractiveness not equalled by other Spanish 
maidens of her acquaintance. Among the bounti- 
ful gifts, so lavishly bestowed by nature on her, 


147 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


was a musical voice of such peculiar sweetness and 
power that the fame of it had gone leagues beyond 
her little world. Even the birds that made their 
home in the tangle of vines near her window, jeal- 
ously paused to listen and wonder what creature 
had rivaled them in producing such heavenly notes. 
Christina gloried in her matchless beauty and mar- 
velous voice with an enjoyment which only youth 
and happiness showered with so many blessings 
can ever hope to attain. Suitors she had by the 
score ; many a rich grandee of Mexico and Alta 
California knelt at her feet and sought her hand, 
but sought in vain for she told them all she had no 
love to give them. Don Alfonso, who had come 
so near wrecking the happiness of his beautiful 
child once, would do nothing to influence her now. 
He was glad she had forgotten her marriage by the 
old Don’s death-bed and since looked at life with 
such happy eyes. Little did Don Alfonso dream 
that the mystery of her marriage to Manuel and 
the possession of the wedding ring kept her from 
thinking of love and marriage with another. But 
a change was coming over the gay and happy life 
she led. War had been declared with Mexico and 
all the brave sons, loyal to her interest, hastened 
to enroll themselves as the defenders of their coun- 
try. No more moonlight rides with the gallants 
and chaperoning duennas! No more dancing of 
the fandango till the small hours of the morning 1 
No more love-making under the windows of 


148 


THE WEDDING RING 


laughing-eyed Senoritas ! The coquettish glances 
ceased and in their place came unbidden tears. 
The sad and anxious lives of mother, sister and 
sweetheart, and their care for the wounded, sick 
and dying, left no heart for pleasure. 

Foremost among the helpers in the improvised 
hospitals was Christina. She, at the first call for 
nurses, had freely offered her help to care for the 
stricken soldiers. Busy from morning till night, 
assisting the good sisters to do for the suffering 
men, Christina had little time or inclination now 
for her once absorbing thought. Once again she 
had heard of Manuel through the chatter of the 
servants. This time she learned that his wife had 
died abroad, and that he had returned to California 
and taken up arms in defense of the flag he loved. 
Old Don Rafael’s house, by Manuel’s orders, was 
one of the first to be opened for the sick and 
wounded, and word had been left not to spare any 
comforts that money could buy for the sufferers. 
Almost a year had been passed by Christina in 
unremitting attention to her work as hospital nurse. 
It was work in which she excelled with a fitness 
quite remarkable in one so young. While her 
beautiful face and musical voice aided much to 
cheer and encourage the spirits of the soldiers lan- 
guishing on their cots, Christina felt well repaid 
in the satisfaction cf knowing that nature’s gifts to 
her were the means of giving pleasure and soothing 
pain at a time when they were most needed. 


149 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


One day there came a messenger from the “ Don 
Rafael Hospital ” saying there were not sufficient 
nurses for the sick and wounded that crowded the 
place and “would the good sisters send needed 
help at once ? ” When Christina heard that sev- 
eral of the nurses were to be sent there without 
delay, she signified her desire to go with them. 
“ Her patients were all doing well,” she said, “ and 
she was more needed at the other place where she 
heard the fever had broken out afresh.” But in 
her heart she knew that her longing to visit the 
old Don’s house was quite as great as her wish to 
help the sisters. So, as a nurse, Christina returned 
to the place where, several years before, at mid- 
night, she had married Manuel, the son of Don 
Rafael. Feeling assured she had forgotten the 
marriage and knowing there would be nothing in 
her busy life to remind her of it, Don Alfonso 
made no objection to his daughter’s change of 
place. How little did he know that in her eager- 
ness to solve this secret she caught at every straw 
of hope and believed that by returning to the old 
house she might do so. 

Could Manuel see her now he would give more 
than one glance at her perfect type of Spanish 
beauty, charmingly enhanced by her simple dress, 
in which she looked more bewitching than in any 
of the rich costumes she had formerly worn. 

For the first few weeks at the “ Don Rafael 
Hospital ” Christina had little time to think about 

150 


THE WEDDING RING 


her ring or its connection with the place. Help 
was indeed needed and the constant demand on her 
time kept her occupied till late at night. Then, 
like a tired child, she sought her couch and peace- 
fully slept without a thought of the old Don or his 
ghost. Days and weeks passed quickly, yet Chris- 
tina found no interval of rest from her labors among 
the patients. Soldiers there were with gaping 
wounds, while dying men occasionally required her 
attention. She did not stop to think of her own 
wants or take the time for selfish pleasure. Her 
soft and pretty hands, with comfort in their touch, 
smoothed the brow of many a dying youth who, 
with his last breath, blessed the Senorita for her 
kindness to him. 

It was with this spirit of goodness enthroned in 
her heart that Christina continued to work for the 
suffering men. Her face ever shining with sym- 
pathy and love, became to them almost saintly in 
its purity. Like a blessing fell the magic sweet- 
ness of her voice on the ears of the suffering ones, 
as each evening she sang for them the vesper 
hymn. Often, when bending over the cot of a 
dying man, he, with eyes dimmed by the mists of 
coming death, turned in rapture to gaze in her 
lovely face, thinking it a picture of the Madonna 
on which they rested. 

At the close of a long and sultry day, Christina, 
who was almost exhausted from heat and fatigue, 
had gone out for a moment’s rest. A refreshingly 

151 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


cool breeze was beginning to blow and as she 
wearily leaned against a large tree and inhaled the 
scented evening air, it was in the enjoyment of a 
pleasure faithfully earned. So different it was 
from the close room and fever infected atmosphere 
that the change seemed almost like heaven to the 
tired girl. As she stood thus, dreamily lost in 
thought, she became aware of an unseen presence 
near her, urging her to go to the old Don’s room 
without delay. As she unconsciously took a step 
forward, in obedience to this strange summons, she 
saw one of the hospital doctors coming hurriedly 
towards her. 

“Senorita,” he said, as he paused at her side, 
“ in one of the lower rooms, at the farther end of 
the house, I have a dangerously wounded young 
officer requiring immediate attention. He has 
been stricken with the fever, and in his delirium it 
is almost impossible to manage him. His nurse, 
who is also his servant, is prostrated from over- 
work. We are short of help in that part of the 
building, and I am forced to ask your aid. Since 
learning of your great success with fever patients, 
I shall count myself fortunate to secure you for a 
few hours, if no more. I know what you have 
voluntarily done for our suffering men and regret 
to ask more of you, knowing how exhausted you 
must be with a hard day’s work.” 

“ I am not tired now, Doctor,” said Christina, 
as she rapidly walked with him to the house. 


152 


THE WEDDING RING 


“ Renewed strength has suddenly been given me 
for this patient of yours, but I cannot explain why 
or for what purpose. I only know that the fatigue 
and weariness from which I suffered a short time 
ago has in some strange and unaccountable manner 
dropped from me like a garment.” 

As she walked past the place where she had 
labored for so many weeks she did not pause or 
hesitate, but with an intuition that it was in the old 
Don’s apartment where the sick man lay, she went 
straight on to the entrance of that well remem- 
bered room. Moving quickly, as if still obeying 
instructions from this unseen power, Christina 
entered the dimly lighted space and approached 
the bed where rested the wounded man. 

The mere outlines of a form was all she could 
see of her new patient, in the shadows that hung 
heavily over that part of the room, but how 
strangely familiar in the half light each article of 
furniture appeared. Even the bed, tenanted as it 
was on the night Don Rafael died, revived the 
memory of that fearful time. Once more in that 
chamber she stood at the bedside of a dying man, 
but death had no terrors for her now, and she 
resolved, in the confidence of her new-born 
strength, to fight the grim visitor which again 
hovered over that bed. The suffering man, raving 
in delirium, was constantly moving his head from 
side to side and wildly striking with his hands at 
imaginary foes. Sitting down by his side, Chris- 


153 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


tina took hold of the hands that were so persist- 
ently beating the air, and gently but firmly held 
them while she spoke to him in a soothing voice, 
such as she would use to a sick child. In a little 
time the tense muscles of his arms relaxed and the 
hands, from which all strength had gone, fell limp 
and heavily at his side. Then the nurse placed 
her fingers on the restless moving head, which 
burned hot under their light touch. The effect of 
the cool, moist hands on the parched skin of the 
patient was wonderfully noticeable. The nervous 
motions soon grew less, and the muttering almost 
ceased. In a few moments more he was so quiet 
that she dressed and bathed the fevered wound 
and moistened his parched lips with a cooling 
drink that the doctor had left. Now moving softly 
about, she threw wide the windows and let in the 
fragrant night air which blew fresh from the 
ocean. Placing the dimly burning light behind a 
screen, she left the soft moonlight to flood the 
room and cast its ghostly shadows on the wall. 
How gaunt and hollow-eyed the sick man looked as 
he turned his head to follow her motions about the 
place. 

The doctor had said that a few hours* sleep was 
the best medicine he could have, but unless there 
was this repose for him, he could not live another 
day. “ Give him the medicine as directed, Senorita, 
and may the saints help you to do the rest,” added 
the doctor, as he left her to her work. 


i54 


THE WEDDING RING 


Seating herself by the bed, Christina again took 
the hands which were beginning to move about 
once more, and while gently stroking them she 
sang, in soft, low tones, an evening hymn. Over 
and over she repeated the comforting words, with a 
voice so charmingly sweet and clear that the sick 
man’s wandering mind was controlled and centered 
on the girl who had so evidently magnetized him 
with this wonderful power of her voice. The room 
to him now was full of angels instead of the 
demons that had haunted him for days. The look 
of pain and suffering gradually left his face, and he 
closed his eyes with a long restful sigh at being 
freed from such tormenting forms. Gradually he 
fell asleep, with the refrain of that entrancing 
music mingling with his dreams. Then from this 
soothing melody there was evolved such joyful 
notes, that it appeared to Christina she was not 
singing alone. Other voices had surely joined in 
this song of praise. Words and music came 
unbidden to her lips, and the glorious hymn, so 
divinely sung, penetrated to every part of the room 
with a ring of gladness and joy seldom heard. 
Now, borne on the still night air, it was wafted 
through the open window, and faintly-sweet was 
heard by the faithful sisters watching in another 
part of the house, and hailed by them as an omen 
of peace for their troubled land. 

They did not know that it came from the throat 
of the exhausted nurse whom they had relieved a 


155 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


few hours before. Exhausted no longer, but with 
a freshness which could only come from days of 
rest, she continued long to sing and with no sign of 
weariness. And still the young officer slept, with 
his hands closely clasped in her own healing palms. 
More gently, more sweetly now the notes fell on 
the sick man’s ears, like the faintest echo of an 
aeolian harp, and the fair singer’s breath, as it 
fanned his face, was to him like the perfume from 
the heart of a dewy rose. Whence came the 
strange attraction which Christina had for the 
young officer ? She knew it was unlike the inter- 
est she had felt for her other patients, and this 
magic of her voice and hands, doubly strong 
now, seemed a new power given her for this 
case alone. As she slowly passed her hands over 
those fevered ones, she knew there was healing in 
their touch. 

When, later, the doctor made his visit, he 
expected to find the poor officer much worse, as 
he had been failing since the morning, but what 
was his astonishment as he neared the room to hear 
the sweetest voice he had ever heard, singing 
softly as a mother would sing to her child, such 
touching hymns and cradle songs. As he entered 
and approached the bed he found, to his surprise, 
the sick man quietly sleeping. 

“ If you can keep him so for some time longer, 
Senorita,” whispered the doctor, “ I shall have 
great hopes of his recovery.” 

156 


THE WEDDING RING 


Christina nodded her head in response to him, 
without pausing in her work For two hours more 
she kept him sleeping through the enchantment of 
her voice and hands. Then, as if nature was sat- 
isfied and refreshed, the sick officer slowly moved 
his head and opened his eyes. Such beautiful 
eyes they were, as he turned them full on his 
nurse ! “ I dreamed of angels,” he said, then 

closed his eyes again and lay quite still. 

Those beautiful eyes ! Christina had seen them 
before, but where? Backward her thoughts flew 
to that wild night ; to Don Rafael’s death-bed, and 
she saw again, through the vista of years, the 
mournful, pleading and terror-stricken glance cast 
on her seven years ago in this very room. Yes, 
this was Manuel, the old Don’s son, and she now 
understood the strange attraction which drew her 
towards him. But this newly-acquired strength 
and healing gift, from what source had it come ? 
She knew the patient had gained marvelously by 
this singular treatment in the short time she had 
been sitting by him. In answer to her question 
came the thought that this magical art was wrought 
by her talisman, her own and his mother’s wedding 
ring ! A bond between her and the sainted woman 
had thus been formed, and the hand that once wore 
the jewel was surely directing and powerfully aid- 
ing her in the treatment of this sick and wounded 
man. She no longer marveled that hymns and cra- 
dle songs of which she never heard or sang before 


157 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

had come to her in the night. The mother’s spirit, 
through her, was singing to her son as she had done 
when he was a child. When next the doctor came 
he gave the nurse much hope that her patient 
would live. 

“ By what means did you accomplish so much, 
Senorita ? ” said the doctor. “Tell me your secret 
and I will make my fortune.” 

“ I sang to him. You heard me,” she simply 
replied. 

“Yes, I heard you, but it was not as others sing. 
Your voice would almost restore the dead to life, 
and there is no medicine that can equal its power 
to heal. This patient is yours, give him all the 
time you can, you are needed here more than you 
are in the other rooms. Go now and take a long 
rest and I will sit here awhile.” 

It was at the break of day when the young offi- 
cer again opened his eyes, but the beautiful vision 
of his dreams was gone. When Christina left the 
sick room she went out of doors to inhale the fresh 
morning air. The darkness and stillness of early 
dawn was yet over the place. A few belated stars 
faintly twinkled, and the moon was now low in the 
heavens, as she passed into the grounds. Under 
the trees the shadows remained thick and heavy as 
on the night previous, for nature was still resting 
from her labors of the past day. Occasionally 
could be heard the sleepy twittering of birds, and 
then came an interval of silence almost profound. 


158 


THE WEDDING RING 


Out in the open again where there had been no 
change since she stood there some hours before, 
Christina could almost fancy for the moment that 
her night’s work had been one of imagination, but 
her knowledge of who the sick man was forbade 
her long to forget. A refreshing wind was blowing 
from the ocean and gave promise of more coolness 
for the suffering men than they had known for 
several days. Don Rafael’s land extended to the 
sea, and as Christina walked slowly in the direction 
of the beach she lived over and over again the 
remembrance of her first meeting with Manuel. 

At last she had again met the young Don in his 
father’s house, and her mind was in such a tumult 
over the great discovery that she knew she must 
have time to think before taking her rest or return- 
ing to the sick man’s room. She wondered if, 
when the light of reason came to his mind, he 
would know her, recognize in her the shrinking 
and frightened child he had married at his father’s 
death-bed. She also asked herself what the result 
of this meeting would be and if he would reveal to 
her the tantalizing secret that had perplexed her 
all these years. With feet that kept pace with the 
rapidity of her thoughts she continued to walk up 
and down on the white sands of the shore. The 
glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes produced by the 
excitement of her discovery in the sick room trans- 
figured the Madonna face, which had become hers 
into the brilliant and fascinating beauty it wore 


159 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


before she had grown familiar with so much 
suffering. 

“Yes,” she thought, “I have been guided by a 
spirit to Don Manuel’s bedside and have been 
granted the power to heal his wounds. I will 
make him well with the help of the saints. Then 
I shall ask him to explain why we were unwillingly 
compelled to go through the ceremony of marriage 
the night his father died. I wonder,” said she to 
herself, brightening and laughing at the thought, 
“ if any nurse ever had such an interesting patient 
before or one whom they were more anxious to 
save. The sisters all say I have a special gift for 
helping the sick, so I will devote my life to the 
work, as I never intend to marry now. My little 
romance will be ended in the same room where it 
began when this young man is able to talk, for I 
will then have a right to some of his confidence, 
after saving his life.” 

For several days the most careful nursing was 
given the young officer before he was pronounced 
out of danger, and then, as the fever left him, he 
lay white and still on the pillows, with no desire to 
speak or move. But his wide open eyes, which 
followed his nurse as she moved about the place, 
proved he was taking an interest in life once more. 
Christina, attending to his wants, was often quietly 
amused at the puzzled expression his face wore as 
he seemed vainly trying to remember where he had 
seen her before. 


160 


THE WEDDING RING 


One morning, after a refreshing night’s sleep, he 
asked in a faint voice, “ Senorita, can you tell me 
how I came here ? This was my father’s house 
and this is the room where he died. The last I 
can remember was falling from my horse.” 

“ You were brought here by your servant, Senor, 
and given this room, as it was the only vacant one 
in the building. You needed quietness and much 
attention. Your wounds were very bad and the 
doctors did not think then you could live many 
days.” 

“ And you, Senorita, have you nursed me since I 
came here ? ” 

“After the first few days, Senor, when your 
servant broke down from overwork, then you were 
given to me.” 

“ And you sang to me ? I recall in my delirium 
the voices of angels who sang so sweetly that they 
drove away the fiends who were trying to tear out 
my heart. In listening to you I forgot the pain of 
my wounds, and dreamed most heavenly dreams.” 

“ You are talking beyond your strength,” quietly 
observed his nurse. “The doctor says if you 
excite yourself, you will have a return of the 
fever.” 

“ Then sing to me and I will lie quite still and 
look at you.” 

“ If you will close your eyes, Senor, I will do so. 
I cannot sing if you watch me,” said she, noticing 
and fearing the admiration which shone in them. 

(ii) 


161 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Obediently the sick man closed his eyes and 
Christina began to sing those charming old Spanish 
songs of love and war. At first she was a little 
nervous, but, as the patient’s eyes remained closed, 
she soon forgot herself and sang several ballads 
without stopping, till, glancing towards the bed, she 
saw the young officer’s eyes were wide open and 
intently watching her. 

“ Pardon me,” he said guiltily, as she paused and 
turned away, “I could not help it. I found I 
wanted to see the singer as well as hear her sing.” 

“I am afraid you are getting to be an unruly 
patient, and I shall have to give my place to one of 
the sisters.” 

“ Do not, I beg of you,” said he, sadly frightened. 
“ If you send me another nurse, I shall surely die. 
I could not help looking at you, Senorita, — for you 
are so beautiful. I pray you to forgive me this 
time, I will not offend again if you promise to stay 
with me.” 

Christina, conscious of burning cheeks and a 
wildly beating heart, saw she must indulge her 
patient or he would surely bring on the fever again, 
so she gave the required promise on condition that 
he would obey her while she remained his nurse. 
After getting her promise, the sick man lay back 
on his pillows, happy and contented in the belief 
that a great calamity to himself had been averted. 
Christina anxiously wondered what would happen 
next. She knew she must be prepared to humor 


162 


THE WEDDING RING 


him for several days to come. She dreaded to 
have him discover who she was until he was well 
and strong. When she could no longer forbid his 
talking, he would be sure to ask a number of 
things. To guard against these surprises, she felt 
she must have leisure to think over what was best 
for her to do, so, on the doctor’s next visit to his 
patient, she escaped to the beach, there to plan how 
to evade the many questions which shone from his 
eyes and had lingered on his lips for days. “ I can 
give him my second name, Benita, and my mother’s 
family name,” she thought. ‘‘There will be no 
wrong in that while he is sick, but when he is well 
I will tell him my full name.” The doctor had 
told her only that morning that the young man 
needed as careful nursing now as he did at first, 
for there was always danger of a relapse, and she 
realized that her answers to him must be as guarded 
as possible. The least hint of a mystery in 
reference to herself or the knowledge of who 
she was, would create excitement in the mind of 
her patient and perhaps undo all the good she had 
done. 

He frequently begged her to sing to him, and 
without being requested to do so always closed his 
eyes, keeping them shut the while as he knew to 
look at his nurse was the signal for her to stop. 
Suddenly one day he opened them as the fair singer 
began her song and asked, “ Senorita, where have 
I seen you previous to your coming to nurse me ? 

163 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Your face is quite familiar at times and I puzzle 
my head till it aches, trying to remember where we 
could have met.” 

“ You saw me in your delirium, Senor, and my 
face made an impression on your mind.” 

“ Yes, it must have been so,” he remanded, half 
satisfied, “for I do not think I could have forgotten 
your face had I ever seen it before this. Tell me 
your name and where you have lived,” said he 
persistently. 

“ Near hear always. I was born in this neigh- 
borhood, but the most of my life has been passed 
in the convent of the good sisters. I am some- 
times called ‘ Benita \” 

“And have you never been in the city of 
Mexico ? ” 

“ Never, Senor. I hoped to visit there with my 
parents, but this cruel war prevented our going. 
Since then I have given my time to nursing the 
sick and wounded as have many others of my 
companions.” 

“ The saints bless you for that. The doctor says 
I owe my life to you, but in trying to heal my 
wounds you have been the cause of another in my 
heart, far deeper and more painful than was the 
first. I have grown to love you passionately, 
Senorita, and unless you will promise to love me 
and become my wife, I do not care to recover. I 
began to live for you and love you while yet in my 
delirium, and long before I could speak I knew 


164 


THE WEDDING RING 


you belonged to me. Does not your heart tell you 
so, Mia Benita ? ” 

“ Do not, Senor, do not agitate yourself. It is 
bad for you,” cried Christina, now thoroughly 
alarmed at his flushed cheeks and growing excite- 
ment. “ Give me time to think. I have never 
thought you would care for me, and I cannot give 
you an answer at present. When you are better, I 
will be glad to do so.” 

But Manuel’s agitation was now beyond all 
control. He begged, prayed and implored her to 
give him some hope that she would return his love. 
Such passionate wooing she had never witnessed 
before, and the danger to her patient was growing 
greater each moment. What could she do ? What 
must she do? So distressed and fearful of what 
the consequences would be if she did not favorably 
answer him, that it made the poor girl almost 
hopeless with despair. 

The look of desperation in Manuel’s eyes, so like 
the remembered expression that had haunted her 
for years, convinced her that there was only one 
answer to be given to his pleadings now. She 
hastened to assure him that she could care for 
him, and then, in answer to a still more passionate 
appeal, reluctantly confessed she loved him, but 
said he must not talk of marriage until he was 
well, then she had much to tell him that might 
influence their future lives and possibly prevent 
their marriage. 

165 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


At the mention of an obstacle to their union, 
Manuel jealously asked her if she had ever loved 
before. When she hastily assured him she had 
not, he grew quite calm again, and said he was 
willing she should take her own time to disclose to 
him her secret. He was well satisfied to know 
that she was free to marry and loved no other. 

Christina, vexed, frightened, and amused in 
turns, at the continuation of her romance in the 
old Don’s room, was still much troubled over this 
new complication of her affairs. Manuel had taken 
advantage of his weakness to compel an answer, 
knowing she would not refuse him, and now what 
to do was a problem. Destiny had indeed designed 
a most singular life for her, and she wondered sor- 
rowfully if she was always to be its puppet. She 
was obliged to own that she had felt an interest in 
Manuel and that he was not indifferent to her. 
She had dreamed of his beautiful eyes and their 
mysterious marriage too many times to feel other- 
wise towards him. Further than that she had not 
allowed herself to think. And she firmly resolved 
not to encourage the love she now was beginning 
to feel for the handsome officer. Since his pas- 
sionate avowal she was forced to admit that she 
had never met any one she could love so well. 
The objection, however, to their marriage seven 
years ago might be an objection still, and for her 
own peace of mind, as well as the happiness of 
Manuel, she would do her best to discourage any 

1 66 


THE WEDDING RING 


more love-making on his part. So unexpectedly 
and without warning had this impetuous young 
Senor confessed his love for her that Christina’s 
head was almost turned with confusion. 

How should she cope with the double task now 
devolved upon her, was a question she repeatedly 
asked herself as she sat by Manuel’s bedside with 
both her hands rapturously clasped in his. Yet 
more difficult each day it was becoming to break 
from the spell his intense love was weaving about 
her. Struggle as she might she made no headway 
in either case. Manuel was happy and convalescing 
rapidly ; a recovery which she dreaded now that 
she found the chains of love drawn tighter about 
her own heart. She read and sang and talked to 
him as the days passed on, and Manuel, obedient 
no longer to her commands, devoured her with 
eyes from which looked worlds of love for the 
fascinating and gifted creature who made a heaven 
of his sick room. 

Christina was happy in spite of her resolve; 
happier than she had dared to hope. She had 
bravely given up the fight when she found she 
could not win, and allowed herself to love and be 
loved in return. She knew it was a happiness 
which could not last, and while she did not wish to 
hasten the hour, she was ofttimes feverishly anxious 
that Manuel should know all and end her suspense. 
When reading or singing her thoughts uncon- 
sciously turned to the talisman about her neck till 


167 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


she had gotten in the habit of nervously turning 
about her fingers the silken cord which held the 
ring. 

Manuel, watching every movement of his charm- 
ing nurse, had first with slight curiosity noticed the 
cord and wondered what was suspended from it. 
As his convalescence drew to an end Christina’s 
nervous motions with the ribbon increased. Manuel 
noticed more and more the movements of her hand 
and from curiosity grew to be jealous of the hidden 
charm ; his vivid imagination pictured it as the 
portrait of some old lover or a love token from 
some admirer. He easily reasoned that such a 
beautiful girl must have had lovers by the score. 
Thus tormenting himself, he grew irritable, jealous 
and exacting, and would scarce allow his nurse 
time to rest or sleep. Christina, much worried by 
these new symptoms in her patient, could not 
understand the cause of his unrest, and she was 
aware that under the circumstances the explanation 
she had to make would be to her a harder trial than 
any she had ever suffered. 

One hot afternoon, when she had allayed his 
suspicions by unusual gentleness and patience, he 
became himself once more and happily talked of 
their love for each other. He promised as soon as 
he was well she should have an engagement ring. 
At the mention of the word ring, Christina’s hand 
flew to her neck, and with much confusion began 
nervously to handle the ribbon. 


168 


THE WEDDING RING 


What did it mean ? Manuel, furiously jealous 
again, fretted and fumed and told his nurse it was 
the excessive heat of the room which troubled him. 
So Christina fanned him and sang to him until he 
dropped asleep. Worn out and exhausted she now 
sank back in her chair and closed her eyes with 
a long sigh of relief that her exacting patient 
was quiet at last. Then she slept, how long she 
did not know, but Manuel, awaking before her, lay 
quietly looking at his lovely nurse with love and 
adoration shining in his eyes. He recalled how 
cross and jealous he had become over his suspicions 
and he vowed to end it when she awoke by asking 
what it was she valued so highly on the ribbon 
about her neck. As she lay sleeping he could see 
her hand closely guarding the treasure as if to her 
the mysterious something was most precious. Hav- 
ing now determined to endure his suspense no 
longer, Manuel impatiently waited for her to awake 
and answer the question he was growing desperate 
to have solved. 

“ How could he disturb the tired girl from her 
few moments of rest ? ” he questioned. His heart 
reproached him for his selfishness towards her as 
he saw her so calmly sleeping. He realized the 
happiness she had brought into his life, for since 
the death of his loved Carlota, some years before, 
existence has been dreary and barren of interest to 
him. When the appeal was made to Mexico’s 
brave sons for help, then he aroused himself and 


169 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


was one of the first to respond to her call. Even 
now, in his absorbing devotion to Christina, the 
gentle and gifted girl who charmed him back to 
life and all its interests, was ever entwined a 
thought for the sainted Carlota, who, to him, was 
a beautiful gift which he had treasured in life and 
still treasured as one of the sweetest memories 
which crowned his younger years. No one could 
replace the affection he felt for his early love in the 
period which was all her own. Enthroned in his 
heart she reigned supreme in the short season of 
bliss which had been allotted to them. The months 
of loneliness and grief for his lost one had matured 
and developed the manhood of the young officer as 
years of happiness could not have done, and Chris- 
tina, who from childhood unselfishly gave her first 
thoughts for others, had also grown in sweetness 
and grace by her loving devotion to the sick and 
suffering in the work she had so heroically under- 
taken. The ripeness of her mind, almost phenom- 
enal in one so young, gave an added thoughtfulness 
to her character, making her a most fitting com- 
panion for Manuel with his more excitable nature. 

Lately Christina, with wisdom far beyond her 
years, had been taking her heart to task for so 
weakly giving away its love before she could dis- 
close the secret of her life. While she confessed 
her love for him, Manuel knew she was not as 
happy as he could wish her to be. He believed that 
she was treasuring her affections and grudgingly 


THE WEDDING RING 


giving a tithe of the fullness and richness of the 
love which he knew was buried in her heart. While 
waiting for her to awaken he jealously imagined 
that the story she had to relate must in some way 
be connected with the charm she wore. This, he 
felt, accounted for the reluctance with which she 
expressed her love for him. The more he dwelt 
on the subject the more impatient he became, until 
he could no longer endure the companionship 
of his own thoughts. Chained to a sick bed 
and feeble yet from the dreadful wound he had 
received, Manuel chose to feel neglected because 
his charming nurse could so calmly sleep on and 
leave him in such doubt and trouble. At last, ren- 
dered almost distracted by the complications of the 
several mysteries that beset him, he was about to 
speak her name and beg her to talk to him when 
Fate, more kind and considerate than he to the 
lovely girl, took pity on her and chose this occa- 
sion to solve for them both the riddle. 

It had lately been a source of many anxious 
moments on Christina’s part as to the time the 
story should be told and the consequences thereof. 
Dreaming of danger to her talisman, she gave a 
start and threw up her hands to protect it. She 
dreaded, even in her sleep, a premature disclosure 
of her secret, but this sudden movement was the 
means which quickly and happily ended the mys- 
tery. By suddenly throwing up her hands the 
slender cord, which was securely twined about her 

171 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


fingers, came apart and was pulled from its place. 
This rapid motion threw the ring on the bed by- 
Manuel’s side. One quick glance he gave to the 
ring and then his hand closed over it. Christina, 
awake now, with a frightened cry, eagerly sought 
for her lost treasure. But Manuel was too quick 
for her ; he secured her hand and cried, “ The ring, 
mia Benita ! How came you to have it ? Answer 
me quickly.” 

Christina, white and trembling, as she appeared 
on the night the ring was placed on her finger, 
could not utter a word, but sank back in her chair 
almost fainting from the shock which she had 
received. Now the time had come and she could 
no longer keep her secret ; she would give it up 
and then leave the place where, in spite of her mis- 
givings, she had been so happy. 

“ The ring, mia Benita 1 ” reiterated Manuel, 
“ tell me how you came by it. It was my mother’s 
wedding ring,” said he excitedly. After repeatedly 
imploring her to speak, Christina, with much 
effort faintly replied, “ You, Don Manuel, you 
placed it on my finger seven years ago in this very 
room by the side of your father’s death-bed.” 

“Saints in heaven!” exclaimed Manuel, “are 
you Christina Gonzales, daughter of Don Alfonso ? 
I heard with regret years ago that you had taken 
vows and became a nun.” 

“ No, Manuel, I did not take the vows as my 
parents wished me to, though at one time it was 


172 


THE WEDDING RING 

rumored that I had done so. I am Christina Ben- 
ita Gonzales still.” 

“ And did you know, mia Benita, chat I was 
Don Rafael’s son when you came to nurse me ? ” 

“ No, Manuel, I did not know who you were till 
I had been with you some time. I remembered 
your eyes and knew you as soon as you opened 
them after your sleep.” 

u . And you have nursed me back to life, knowing 
the injury I did you so long ago ? ” 

“ I know nothing, Manuel. My father did not 
choose to tell me more than that the marriage was 
not legal. He forbade me ever to mention the mar- 
riage or ask a question regarding it. My mother 
was not permitted to know more than I did, and in 
all these years we have never spoken of that 
night’s visit.” 

“ Does your father know you are nursing me, 
darling?” said Manuel tenderly. 

** No, Manuel, my father is in poor health and 
does not ride so far as this place now. He knows 
that I am here and gave his consent that I should 
come and help to nurse the sick.” 

“ And you have worn this ring about your neck 
all these years ? ” 

“ Yes, it was forgotten by you as well as by my 
parents. At first in a spirit of mischief I resolved 
to keep it a secret, but as time rolled on I grew 
much attached to my talisman, as I called it, and 
felt that it would some day be the means of my 


i73 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


learning more about the marriage. I confess to 
you, Manuel, that after my fright was over and I 
had heard from my father that the marriage was 
not legal I became very curious to know more. 
Also I became quite indignant, for I felt my youth 
had been taken advantage of for some selfish rea- 
son and I rebelled at being chosen to take the part 
I did. 

“I knew you were as unwilling to go through 
the ceremony as I was,” continued Christina, “and 
I never forgot the look of utter hopelessness in 
your eyes. I cannot describe to you my feelings 
when I discovered you in your father’s room and 
bed. When you so passionately declared your love 
for me I was frightened out of my senses, and did 
not wish to give you an answer till you were better, 
and I could explain to you that I was Christina 
Gonzales. You know, Manuel, you were very sick 
and the doctor had warned me not to allow you to 
become excited. But you were such a persistent 
lover,” said Christina, with a sorrowful smile, “ that 
I was compelled to favorably answer you against 
my better judgment.” 

“ But why against your judgment, my darling? 
You love me, do you not ? ” said Manuel, holding 
her hands and looking fondly into her eyes with joy 
beaming from his own. 

“ Yes, Manuel, that is the hardest thing I have 
to confess. I had unconsciously learned to love 
you, but when I knew it was so then I tried not to 


174 


THE WEDDING RING 


show it for I was afraid there might still be objec- 
tions that would prevent our marriage from becom- 
ing legal now as there had been in the past.” 

“No, my darling, there is nothing to prevent our 
marriage now. In proof of it I will take this pre- 
cious ring of my mother’s, which you have cared 
for so lovingly, and place it on your finger as your 
engagement ring. It is twice hallowed now,” said 
Manuel, as he once again slipped the golden circlet 
on her slender finger and kissed the hand that wore 
it. “ When I am well, my dear one, I will add to 
it a wedding ring,” continued the young man sol- 
emnly. “ The secret, mia Benita, which you had 
to tell has been most strangely revealed. Fate 
often finds very startling endings for her romances 
though nothing quite so wonderful as the first and 
second scenes which have been enacted in this room 
ever occurred before. Now, to make the drama 
complete we should be married again in this room 
and with the same ring.” 

“And we will do so,” said Christina, with a 
happy laugh, “for I love this memento and should 
choose it for my wedding ring in preference to 
another. I also have formed quite an affection for 
this old place, and have spent many happy days in 
this room even when I felt they would not last.” 

“ Did you know that I was furiously jealous of 
the hidden charm you wore about your neck, and 
that it was the cause of my irritable and impatient 
moods ? ” 


i75 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

“I never suspected it, but I used to puzzle my 
head for the reason of such unheard-of symptoms 
in a patient who was recovering as rapidly as you 
were.” 

“I know I was a great trial to you, my dear 
one, but the suspense was most terrible to me. I 
was about to throw myself on your mercy and ask 
you to explain what it was you preserved with such 
care, when Fate took the adjusting of the trouble- 
some question out of our hands. I have yet my 
story to tell, and when I do I trust you will judge 
me as mercifully as your father did. Most nobly 
he treated me after my confession, and my grati- 
tude to him for this kindness I can never forget. 
Yet favors untold I am still receiving through his 
daughter, which increases my obligation past the 
mark of my ability to repay. If you, my precious 
Benita, can forgive me when you hear my confes- 
sion, I shall know that the saints have interceded 
for me the second time/’ 

But Christina, glancing at the ring on her hand, 
which Manuel held so closely, had her own opinion 
about the severity of her sentence, and told him 
he could safely risk her displeasure. She said she 
was too happy to let anything disturb her now, and 
her low, musical laugh filled the room, frightening 
the hobgoblins of other days from their retreat, as 
Manuel retold his suspicions of the charm she wore. 

A long time before Manuel was able to leave his 
room he had acquainted Christina with the terrible 


176 


THE WEDDING RING 


ordeal he had gone through on that fearful night 
his father died and how she had been deceived into 
a false marriage to secure for him his father’s 
blessing. The ring, he said, he had not noticed, 
and never associated it with his mother’s wedding 
ring. After a full confession of his trials on that 
night, Manuel asked Christina if she could forgive 
him. 

“ Freely and fully,” she earnestly responded, 
“ if I had anything to forgive, but I have nothing. 
I do not see how you could have done otherwise. 
You were hedged in and given no opportunity to 
escape from the net in which you were so irre- 
trievably caught. It has been the romance of my 
life, Manuel, and now that it has turned out so 
happily I would not part from my connection with 
it for mines of gold. I have been favored in hav- 
ing a secret in which no one but you, Manuel, 
could share. This ring has been my talisman and 
constant companion ; without it I might have been 
a religious recluse, for which I had no taste and 
was not fitted. And now more than ever do I feel 
that I have been exalted above others of my 
friends, for, by wearing this ring so many years, it 
became a connecting link between your sainted 
mother and myself. This formed a chain of love 
by which, through me as the medium, your mother 
and your sainted Carlota could aid you when you 
were so dangerously ill. This golden hoop will be 
a precious treasure to me, Manuel, as long as I 


( 12 ) 


177 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


shall live. In the two great events of my life 
which occurred in this room it has played an 
important part as a messenger of good, for good 
did come from that which you and my father 
thought so evil a beginning. But tell me, Manuel, 
did you never think of your mother’s wedding ring 
in all these years ? ” 

“ Often, my darling, but I thought it lost. My 
mother wore it till her death, and I never saw it 
after, though I looked for it many times among her 
jewels. When it dropped at my side I recognized 
it instantly. It is a curious ring. I admired it 
very much as a child and felt an interest in its 
history, which I had heard my mother repeatedly 
tell.” 

“Do tell it to me, dear Manuel. I have never 
been able to read the motto, and did not dare risk 
asking another to do so for me.” 

“ The ring is very old, my father got it from a 
collector of rare jewels in Spain for my mother’s 
wedding present. The legend says that it was 
once the engagement token of a beautiful Roman 
princess, whose betrothed husband received his 
death wound on the battlefield. With his last 
breath he told her that as long as she wore the ring 
and was faithful to him, he would be given the 
power to communicate with her from the spirit 
world. The bereaved princess wore the ring till 
her death, and in her will she spoke of the wonder- 
ful charm it possessed and said she wished it ever 


178 


THE WEDDING RING 

to be worn as a symbol of love. The motto reads : 
‘ Faith and love will ever bring the power of magic 
to this ring/ ” 

“ It is a beautiful motto indeed and most won- 
derfully has its promise been fulfilled. I under- 
stand now why this souvenir of the beautiful 
princess is still magical in its effects. It only 
needs the key of faith and love to unlock its secret 
power and bring to you messages from your sainted 
loved ones. We will adopt the sentiment of this 
motto and by our trust in each other we will ever 
keep alive this spirit of love which glows so brightly 
in our hearts. And now I have a request to make, 
dear Manuel. When we are married let the wed- 
ding be not only in this room but by the same good 
father who performed the ceremony before. In this 
way you will have fulfilled your father’s wishes and 
secured your father’s blessing. These are dread- 
ful times, and with the sick and wounded all about 
us it is best we have a quiet wedding.” 

“ Your request is granted, my dear one, for I 
should like nothing better than the plan you have 
proposed. This old room is endeared to me by the 
many happy days we have passed in it, and I hope 
in the future to spend years here with you by my 
side. But first we will have a change. Our wed- 
ding journey to Mexico and back will rest and 
refresh us both. The doctor said this morning 
that I was almost well enough to be discharged 
and, with a twinkle in his eye, he suggested that I 


179 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


discharge my nurse ; but I told him that I had 
engaged you for life. Then he congratulated me 
and said I was a fortunate patient to secure such a 
wonderful nurse as you had proved to be. He also 
said you had been like an angel of mercy to the 
sick and suffering men before you came to me, and 
he hoped I was worthy of you, my dear one. I 
told him I was not, but that if a wealth of love and 
devotion could take the place of my unworthiness, 
you would find no limit to the affectionate regard 
I bore you.” 

“ It is sweet to be so loved,” answered Christina 
quietly, “ and there is perfect contentment in my 
heart now. The saints have abundantly blessed 
me for all I have done by rewarding me with your 
love and giving my romance such a fortunate 
ending.” 

“ Benita,” said Manuel, as he drew her fondly to 
him, “there are worlds of love and happiness 
beaming from your beautiful eyes now. I knew 
there were depths of affection deep buried in your 
heart which I had not fathomed and to which I 
was longing you should give expression. You 
have now answered my yearnings and crowned my 
life with such bliss as few mortals ever know. 
Undeserving as I am, I selfishly accept all the love 
that you can give, and in the perfection of my love 
for you I pray you may be shielded from all that 
could dim the happy light that shines forth with 
such radiance now.” 


180 


THE WEDDING RING 


The delight of Christina’s father and mother on 
hearing of their daughter’s engagement to Manuel 
can be imagined, and they both, for the second 
time, witnessed the marriage which occurred a few 
weeks later in the old Don’s room. The aged 
Father Anselmo gladly united the young people 
once more. He said nothing in his long life had 
given him more satisfaction than this second mar- 
riage of Manuel and Christina. 

The Don’s room was decorated with flowers for 
this second wedding, and instead of a dark and 
stormy night, the sun was shining brightly. The 
Senora had no fear of evil spirits now, but felt 
instead a great pride in the handsome bride and 
groom. Don Alfonso, whose conscience had 
troubled him not a little over the part he had 
played in the first marriage, seemed to throw off 
years of care and illness and appeared almost 
young again. All the convalescing soldiers who 
were able witnessed the ceremony and wished their 
beautiful nurse and the pale but handsome young 
officer a long life of happiness. Never before or 
since had the adobe house entertained such a wed- 
ding party, and never before was there a wedding 
party where each guest felt such adoration for the 
bride. At parting Christina sang for them the 
evening hymn, as she had nightly done since her 
stay in Don Rafael’s house. 

With tears in her eyes she bade each sister a 
kind farewell. The sisters, deeply grieved at 

181 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


parting with the lovely girl, returned sadly to their 
duties, breathing prayers for her happiness. The 
thoughtfulness of Don Manuel in providing so 
bountifully for the soldiers had made him many 
friends and their blessings for him, as well as for 
their nurse, followed them lovingly into their new 
and broader sphere of life. 


182 


THE ANGELS’ PROMISE 


AT MONTERY BAY 


On sea-washed, rocks a dainty lichen grows ; 

Back from the shore are lofty cypress trees ; 

And in the waves the frail anemones 
Softly their purple fringes ope and close. 

A lonely gull on slow wing seaward goes ; 

A shallop drifts before the freshening breeze ; 

Full are the lingering hours of calm and ease ; 

Full is the soul , world-weary, of repose. 

The wind is singing to the monotone 

Of the deep tides ; and singing in the pines, 

Through whose soft waving foliage lightly shines 
The sun on silver beaches as it shone 

Twelve decades past , when from the branches swung 
The Mission bells that Junipero hung. 

— Virna Woods in “ The Californian." 


THE ANGELS’ PROMISE 


P EPITA stood alone by the new-made grave, 
silently dropping her tears on the fresh 
earth. To whom could she turn now for love and 
sympathy ? Who would take the place of the dear, 
old man who had been father, mother and friend to 
her? True, the Senora had offered her a home 
after the old man died, but what a home compared 
to the one she had lost ; for it was a home without 
love, a home without friends, that would be hers 
under the Senora’s roof. The old Mexican, who 
was buried beneath the mound over which Pepita 
was breaking her little heart, had taken her when 
an infant from the arms of her dead mother, and 
placed her in the keeping of his sister, with whom 
he lived, and they had cared for her till she was 
old enough to care for them, and now within a year 
she had buried them both. 

Poor Pepita I A shy, shrinking child, scarce 
twelve years of age and so small that she seemed 
years younger, stood guard over the grave of her 
lost friend. Her quiet life with the old people at 
the San Buenaventura Mission had not fitted her 
to take the care of the Senora’s noisy children. 
And then she wished to go to school, to the mission 
school, where she was doing so well and where the 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


sisters spoke so kindly to her. If only she might 
die, she moaned, as, overpowered by her great grief, 
she threw herself sobbing on the mound of earth. 
No one wanted her and after to-night her old home 
would be no more, for would they not come and 
take away the few things from the little cabin that 
had been her dear refuge all her life? Yes, the 
few household goods must be sold to pay for the 
food and medicine required by the old man when 
he was no longer able to work and earn the pittance 
necessary to buy their daily bread. And now the 
parish had buried him ; for there was not enough 
money among his impoverished friends to enable 
them to offer such a testimony of their love. 

Alas ! for the child, her only friend was gone, 
and poor Pepita lay sobbing on his grave till late 
in the night. Then, tired and worn with her grief, 
she at last dropped asleep. And, while she slept 
the soft night air gently lifted the dark locks that 
fell about her little, brown face and dried the tears 
that had fallen like rain over her dusky cheeks. 
One little hand held a crucifix, tightly clasped, and 
the other was thrown lovingly over the grave. 
Then she dreamed that the angels came, and 
fanned her with their wings and spoke words of 
love and comfort, promising her that she should go 
to her loved ones soon. How sweetly she slept 
only those knew who saw the smile on her face the 
next morning, for the angels had kept their promise. 
Pepita had gone home to her loved ones. 


186 



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A ROMANCE OF 
SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 


SAN DIEGO BELLS 


Gone are the halls where long ago 
There dwelt that brotherhood ', 

And brown bare walls and arches low 
Mark where the Mission stood ', 

And the moping owl makes there his home , 

Where he feedeth his hungry brood . 

Miguel still lifts his lofty head 
Above the mountains gray, 

And Loma Point still makes his bed 
Far out in the western bay ; 

But the times are changed, and the days are dead. 
And the friars — where are they ? 

Changed, changed is all save yonder sea, 

And yonder mountains brown , 

The breakers' deep-tone symphony 
Where the tide is going down, 

And the voices of the Mission bells 
By San Diego town. 

— S. M. H. Byers , in “ Overland Monthly 


A ROMANCE OF 
SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 


A MONG all the mission ruins of California, 
San Juan Capistrano is called the most 
sublime, the most beautiful and the most pictur- 
esque. In its fallen greatness there is depicted in 
every crumbling wall and stone, the stately bearing 
of the grandest edifice of its time. 

On beholding the remains of this wonderful 
structure one marvels at the excellence of the work 
which was accomplished almost entirely by Indian 
hands. But in every line and in every curve of 
this proudest of mission ruins, there is shown evi- 
dence of a master mind that guided the unskilled 
and savage workmen in their task. Whether it be 
wrapped in a mantle of fog, or bathed in the golden 
sunlight, whose searching rays bring into relief the 
scars which time and the destroying elements have 
made, or softened in effect by the light of the pale 
moon, yet at all times and in all conditions in which 
you view this monarch of missions your heart will 
thrill with reverence and love for its founder, the 
holy Father Junipero Serra. It was his lofty spirit 
and indomitable will which made it possible for his 
successors to accomplish in the line of mission 
work, such wonderful results. 


189 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


No more attractive spot for a place of worship 
could have been selected than the one where the 
mission was located. Situated in a lovely valley 
some distance north from San Diego, the mission 
is partly surrounded by low rolling hills which reach 
to the ocean, completing a picture of unrivalled 
beauty. 

The earthquake shock of 1812 which shattered 
the Mission of San Luis Obispo gave to San Juan 
Capistrano its death blow. The morning of the 
eighth day of December of that year, saw the 
chapel filled with devout Indian worshippers, and 
as the service progressed and the neophytes became 
absorbed in their devotions, the fast darkening skies 
passed unobserved. Soon, however, a low rum- 
bling sound which preceded the tremblor was 
heard, followed almost immediately by a terrific 
shock. The lofty tower of the church swayed 
and bent, then fell crashing through the tiled roof 
with a thunderous noise, on to the heads of the 
panic-stricken worshippers below, crushing out the 
lives of all but the padre and a few fortunate 
neophytes. 

By this tragic ending to the mission’s prosperity, 
California lost not only her finest mission building 
but many rare and costly pictures and historic pos- 
sessions of the church. The church was not 
rebuilt, but over an adjoining adobe there swung 
for many years the sweet bells of San Juan 
Capistrano. 


190 



MISSION SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 
Founded November i, 1776 





A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

It is in connection with this interesting mission 
that so many tragic tales are told, the memory of 
which lingers like the faint perfume of flowers in 
the fragrant air which so softly sighs among the 
ruins. Go and stand amid the broken arches and 
fallen walls and let the wind as it gently fans your 
cheek whisper to you with magic sweetness, the 
most thrilling tales of love and hope and despair, 
for amid no other ruins does the soul respond with 
such exhilaration or thrill with the spirit of the past 
as it does at San Juan Capistrano. 

At one time in the mission’s history a noted 
band of pirates infested the San Diego coast. They 
were the dread of the people living along the shore, 
for they did much harm and committed many law- 
less acts wherever they chose to land. Quite often 
their visits were made to Capistrano and at such 
times they intimidated the priests and neophytes 
and banished them from the mission ; then for 
days together they revelled in their lawlessness in 
the holy place, appropriating the best of the mis- 
sion’s supply of food and wine and destroying much 
as well as carrying off large quantities when they 
left. 

On one of their raids at Capistrano a sailor 
belonging to the Bonsard pirate crew brought to 
the home of a Mexican woman living in the vicinity, 
a little girl, apparently not more than a year old, 
and told the woman to keep it and raise it as her 
own, as its parents were lost at sea, and that the 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


child was the only living creature saved from the 
wreck of their ship. The babe, when left with 
the woman, was utterly without clothing, other 
than a large piece of sail cloth in which it was 
wrapped. 

The little stranger to San Juan was a beautiful 
child with its soft olive skin and clear brown eyes, 
while curling rings of dark hair tumbled loosely 
about its pretty face and head. The old Mexican 
woman needed no urging but took to the babe at 
once and gave it a place in her heart and home. 
Another child added to her numerous family would 
make no more work, she said, and as the child was 
motherless and fatherless, that was inducement 
enough for the kind-hearted woman to shelter the 
babe. 

It was thought that the child might have been 
stolen for a ransom by the pirates from some ves- 
sel they had robbed, and its clothing removed to 
prevent detection ; if so, they had missed a most 
important article, an article of so much value that 
it gave the child a standing at once as belonging to 
people of rank and wealth. Buried in the folds of 
its chubby neck and covered by the soft curling 
hair which fell all about it was a fine gold chain, a 
mere thread, which encircled the throat of the 
infant closely, and on the tiny clasp was engraved 
the name “ Loma,” doubtless the child’s name ; if 
it were not, the good padre made it so when he 
baptized the babe a few days later. 


192 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

The sailor who left the child gave into the hands 
of the woman some gold to buy for it the necessary 
clothing, saying he would come again some day and 
bring her more ; but to the satisfaction of all tne 
people at Capistrano that was the last seen of the 
pirates in that part of the coast. In his efforts to 
find the parents of the child if they were living, 
Padre Soto caused word to be sent from mission to 
mission in regard to the little waif and its strange 
appearance at San Juan, but nothing was learned 
about the wreck of a ship, with the loss of all on 
board, or of parties who had lost a child ; so little 
Loma, under the kind care of Mother Marda, as 
she was taught to call the good Mexican woman, 
grew and thrived as one of her own brood. 

The chain, which soon became too small for the 
child’s neck, had been carefully preserved by Padre 
Soto till Loma was old enough to have the charge 
of it, and to know the value of the keepsake. 

Only one difference in the bringing up of Loma 
and Marda’s children did the kind padre insist upon, 
and that was in her education. The expense of a 
year’s schooling in the convent at Los Angeles, he 
said he would defray himself when she had finished 
at the mission school. 

While in many ways Loma was reared as one of 
Marda’s children, nothing could make her become 
or appear like one of them. More and more Mother 
Marda became convinced that a strange bird had 
dropped in among her nestlings. To the padre she 

(13) 


193 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


told her fears, saying she did not know how she 
would be able to manage the child when she grew 
older, for Loma’s imperious and strange ways puz- 
zled her greatly. Padre Soto’s answer to Mother 
Marda was, “ Do not try to manage her, Marda. 
Give her the freedom to do as she chooses. Loma 
is a good child ; the sisters love her and speak well 
of her work at school ; she will come to no harm. 
Love her but let her manage herself.” 

And wise counsel it was, for while Loma loved 
her adopted mother dearly she knew Mother Marda 
did not understand her, and she could not endure 
to be taught to do things as was her foster sister 
Rosa. 

From her earliest childhood Loma’s delight was 
to play in the Capistrano ruins. She had built for 
herself in a secluded nook a little shrine of tile 
fragments and pieces of broken images, and there 
with a numerous family of dolls to whom she gave 
the names of her favorite saints, she passed every 
pleasant moment when out of school. 

As she grew older her embroidery took the place 
of her dolls for company, and there, alone for many 
hours of the day, Loma jealously guarded her 
shrine. In all other things Loma would divide 
cheerfully with Marda’s children, but her shrine 
was sacred, and she would have no intrusion in the 
place where she chose to indulge in day dreams. 
She thought often over the problem of her birth 
and wondered to whom she belonged, and if her 

194 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

parents were living. For Loma had known very 
early in life that the Mexican woman was not her 
real mother. 

Such a beautiful high spirited girl as Loma grew 
to be, she charmed all the people at San Juan by 
her daring and fearlessness when courage was 
needed. And her sweet and ready sympathy for 
those in sickness or grief won her many friends, 
but she would never learn to make tortillas. 

“Let Rosa do that,” she would say, “Rosa 
loves to cook and eat ; I do not.” 

When Pedro Mendoza told her one day at the 
ruins, where he had followed her, that he loved her 
and wanted to make her his wife, she turned her 
face to him with a look of surprise which he never 
forgot, while she quietly said, “ Pedro Mendoza, I 
am no wife for you, do you not see it ? Go and 
marry Rosa, she is the one you should wed. Mex- 
icans like nice comfortable wives like Mother 
Marda. Rosa likes to cook and eat and sleep. 
She basks half her days in the sun like the green 
lizards here on the stones about. She will do all 
you tell her and make you a good wife. Even 
were you of my rank and I loved you, I would not 
live your kind of life. Bah ! I hate it 1 It is 
cook and eat and sleep. And each day is like the 
last.” 

“But what will you do, Senorita Loma,” said 
Pedro, mockingly, for he was angered at Loma’s 
haughty manner, “ You have no home, you can’t 


195 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


always live with old Marda. Suppose the padre 
tells you to marry me. Will you then ? ” 

“ Never ! ” said Loma, “ for Padre Soto will not 
tell me to wed you ; he knows me ; you do not. 
What will I do ? I will leave here some day when 
the padre tells me I may go, and I shall try to find 
my parents if they are living, and if they are not, 
I am sure I shall find some of my people. I must 
resemble some of my family, and the chain and 
the name will help me. If I fail in that, I will 
enter a convent and become a Sister of Charity, 
for I will never live the stupid life you sleepy 
Mexicans do.” 

“ Have you ever thought, Loma,” said Pedro, 
vindictively, “that you may have belonged to 
some one of the pirate crew who were killed in a 
sea fight ? You may be a pirate's child, you 
know.” 

“ It is not true, Pedro, and no one but a sinful- 
minded person would say such things to me. Am 
I the wicked creature a pirate’s child would be ? I 
love all who are good, and hate all who are bad, 
you among the number, for you are bad to have 
such thoughts of me, whom you have known since 
I was left at San Juan. Never follow me here 
again, for Padre Soto says a holy place is desecrated 
by the evil minded l ” exclaimed Loma, with flash- 
ing eyes. 

“ Very well, Senorita, but when it is proved some 
day that you are a pirate’s child, then maybe you will 


196 


AROMANCEOF SANJUAN CAPISTRANO 


be glad to have an honest Mexican for your hus- 
band, for no one else will marry one of that 
blood.” 

For answer, Loma silently turned and walked 
into the chapel away from the angry man, leaving 
him uttering threats of what he would do. 

Loma had received her year’s schooling, as 
Padre Soto promised her, and on her return, the 
change between this life at Capistrano and the one 
with the gentle and refined sisters at the Sacred 
Heart Convent in Los Angeles, was constantly 
being presented to her. Now, when she felt she 
could endure it no longer, she went to the kind 
priest, who had been father and friend to her, and 
begged that he would assist her to find her parents. 

“ Send me to Mexico,” she pleaded, “ I am sure 
to find some of my friends and if they are rich they 
will help the mission people who have been so kind 
to me.” 

The good old padre was startled at her earnest- 
ness and hesitated to answer. He did not think 
the journey would be a success, but he could under- 
stand how the hope had grown with her years, and 
he would not shake her faith in the thought that 
her parents were living, by refusing her request. 
The thought of parting with the dear child was a 
hard blow for which he was unprepared. From a 
helpless babe until now, she had been the object of 
his loving care and a comfort to him in his old age. 
Her baby fingers had caressed the dear old face 


197 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


and the infant feet had followed pattering after 
him as he went about his mission work. Many 
times from her play in the ruins had he sought her 
out to save her from an approaching storm and 
tenderly tucking the child under his robes, he 
would carry her to her home. 

The year had been a long one that kept Loma 
away from the mission, and now the time had come 
when he must give his consent to have her go from 
San Juan Capistrano, perhaps forever. Then Padre 
Soto prayed that he might become resigned to the 
granting of her wish ; and, strong in the faith that 
he would be answered, he said she should go, with 
his blessing, the coming month, when Sister Ursula 
returned to Mexico. 

Busy with the preparations for her departure, 
Loma thought nothing of Pedro Mendoza and his 
surly face, other than to be glad that he had gone 
on a visit to San Diego, and she hoped before he 
returned to be far away from the mission herself. 
It would be hard to part with Padre Soto and 
Mother Marda, her dearest and best friends, but 
she promised them she would return some day. 
A short time however before Loma was to take the 
vessel which would bear her, as she fondly hoped, 
to the home of her people, a strange and unlooked 
for circumstance changed all her plans. 

After a restless night in which she dreamed that 
Pedro Mendoza was carrying her away to live with 
the pirates, she awakened early, glad to find she 

198 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

was still under the protection of Mother Marda and 
that it was only a bad dream which had troubled 
her. But still she could not throw off the unpleasant 
feeling produced by Pedro’s cruel words. “You 
may be a pirate’s child,” saddened her waking 
moments and affected her sleeping ones, for Loma’s 
whole life had been absorbed by the one thought 
that some day she would find her parents, and 
such a heartless shock as Pedro had given her 
could not be lightly thrown aside. 

With a mind so disturbed there was but one 
place where she could find comfort and peace. To 
her shrine in the ruins she went with the first 
glimpse of the morning light and, kneeling before 
it, as was her custom, joined her voice with the 
birds, the whispering winds and rustling leaves in 
praise to the Virgin. In this holy place all doubts 
that had assailed her vanished, and the pure spirit 
of the girl almost severed its bonds with happiness 
as song after song of praise burst from her lips and 
went echoing through the ruins. 

When Don Carlos Serrano visited his aged rela- 
tive, Padre Soto, at San Juan Capistrano, he little 
imagined that destiny had woven a web for him in 
the ruined misson and was patiently awaiting his 
coming to entangle his heart in its meshes. It 
was in the early morning when Don Carlos, for the 
first time, visited the ruins. There he saw a pic- 
ture that drove all thoughts of missions from his 
mind and left him such a willing victim to the wiles 


199 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


of fate that he had no desire to move from the place 
for he was hopelessly ensnared in love’s net at last. 
Don Carlos had seen many pretty dark eyed senor- 
itas, but never such a vision of loveliness as was 
Loma, kneeling before the shrine. 

Her wondrously beautiful face turned like a 
flower towards the rising sun revealed the emblems 
of purity and love, reflected from a soul trusting in 
the Divine power and happy in its devotions. 
Unobserved and impatent Don Carlos stood wait- 
ing till Loma had finished her song of praise and 
gave him an opportunity to approach. When how- 
ever he stood near her he felt unable to frame the 
words he would speak till Loma’s gentle voice 
broke the silence with her “ Good morning, Senor.” 

She knew he was the padre’s nephew whom she 
heard had arrived the night previous. Loma had 
been a little startled when the handsome stranger 
suddenly appeared beside her, but had quickly 
recovered from her fright when she found the 
young Senor embarrassed in her presence. 

“ Your pardon, Senorita,” said he, at last, as he 
bowed low before her, “ but may I ask if you are 
the Goddess of these ruins and do you make your 
home among them ? If so, the attraction is greater 
than I supposed. I was not prepared to find the 
ruins inhabited by mortals. I have heard that the 
spirits of those who passed away so long ago still 
linger about the place. But do not tell me, 
Senorita, that you are one of them.” 


200 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

“ No, Senor,” said Loma, with smiles dimpling 
her sunny face, “ no, Senor, I am not a spirit of 
the mission ruins and yet I do not believe the 
spirits haunt it more than I do. This place has 
been my home far more than the one where I live 
with Mother Marda, and at this shrine I have wor- 
shipped since childhood. This spot has become 
very dear to me since Padre Soto blessed it so 
many years ago.” 

“But do you never tire of it and wish for a 
brighter life and its pleasures ? It is most unnat- 
ural, Senorita, for youth and beauty to bury itself 
in ruins with nothing but the romance of the past 
for company.” 

“Yes, Senor, that is very true,” said Loma, 
“ but pleasures and a gay life are not for me. I 
have a mission to perform and until I can accom- 
plish that I must pray for help and guidance. 
Padre Soto tells me if it is their will, the saints can 
grant my prayers. I am happy in the hope, for 
my faith grows stronger each day as I kneel 
before this holy shrine, that my supplications will 
be heard and the saints will give me my heart’s 
desire.” 

“ A mission for one so young and beautiful, 
Senorita 1 ” exclaimed Don Carlos. “ Ah, Senorita, 
would I were a saint, then your prayers would soon 
be answered. Have you lost your parents, that 
you must pray alone at this shrine for the boon 
you ask ? ” 


201 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


“No, Seiior,” said Loma, sadly, “I was lost or 
stolen from my parents when I was an infant and 
left with Mother Marda by one of the pirate crew. 
All the mother I have ever known has been my 
good Marda, and Padre Soto has been padre, friend 
and brother to me. The dear old man ! I could 
not love him more were he, in truth, my father. 
My mission is to find my parents, for I feel that 
they are living. If they were not, their spirits 
would have come to me in answer to my many 
prayers.” 

“ Dear Senorita,” said Don Carlos, “ I implore 
you to let me join my prayers with yours in the 
hope that the saints will speedily guide you to the 
place where your parents dwell, for it must not be 
that one so young and beautiful as you are should 
spend all their youth, without love or pleasure, 
within the shattered walls of San Juan Capistrano. 
Let it be my mission in life to assist you, and my 
prayers shall be as fervent as yours if, beside you, 
at this altar, I may kneel. It has been my fate 
that I should meet you here and love you, and 
unless you give me hope, I will wish to die and be 
buried in the ruins you love so well. I pray you, 
Senorita, listen to my pleadings,” continued Don 
Carlos, with passionate fervor, " and the saints will 
crown our love with happiness. Do not answer 
yet, Senorita,” said he, noticing the frightened look 
in Loma’s face in consequence of his fiery wooing. 
“I have alarmed you and I beg you to forgive 


202 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 


me,” his ardent manner changing to one of soft 
pleading as he sank at her feet. “ Only give me 
time to win you, Senorita,” he begged. 

Penitently his lustrous eyes sought hers, com- 
pelling her to see the love in their depths to which 
her own heart responded with its first throb of 
affection for the handsome Senor. 

It was a relief to Loma when she saw the padre 
approaching, but when Don Carlos turned to the 
priest and begged that he would plead for him 
and said that he loved this sweet-faced girl of the 
mission ruins and would make her his wife, the old 
padre, seeing the dawning love light in Loma’s 
eyes, joined their hands and blessed them, well 
pleased, he said, that the dear child had found a 
worthy lover. With a prayer on his lips for her 
future, he passed on his daily round of mission 
work, leaving the newly betrothed pair to their 
happiness. 

Loma’s love for Padre Soto and her faith in him 
was so great that she never questioned aught he 
might bid her do ; and when he placed her hand in 
that of Don Carlos and gave them his blessing, 
there was nothing strange to her in the thought 
that she had that morning, for the first time, met 
the Senor. With the unquestioned faith of a child 
obeying its parents, she gave her heart to him 
without reserve. When, a moment later, Loma 
lifted her eyes to her lover’s, after the betrothal 
kiss, she started in affright, for there, a few feet 


203 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


from them, she saw the scowling face of Pedro 
Mendoza, who, having returned, had again followed 
her to the ruins. He passed them by without a 
word, but with such a fiendish smile that Loma 
made the sign of the cross and breathed a 
prayer to the Virgin Mother to protect her 
new found happiness from the dread of his pres- 
ence. 

When, later in the day, she heard Pedro had 
gone to San Diego again, her heart was glad 
within her. One blissful week, such as she had 
never known was possible, had come to her, and 
with the sanction and good wishes of Padre Soto, 
the lovers passed their time in riding and walking 
about the country and enjoying every precious 
moment that was left to them. Only one week of 
such happiness was theirs before Don Carlos must 
continue his journey up the coast to Monterey, in 
obedience to his father’s wishes. 

When the time came for his departure, Don 
Carlos took with him the padre’s promise that, on 
his return, he and Loma should wed and then 
together search for Loma’s parents. With this 
hope in his heart he left San Juan Capistrano, 
counting the days till his return. He wished much 
to see Loma once more as he saw her at first, amid 
broken walls and fallen brick, kneeling before her 
shrine and rivalling the birds with her song of 
praise, but many changes were to come to her, of 
both sorrow and joy, ere they would meet again, 


204 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

for it was decreed that there was to be no repetition 
of the scene for Don Carlos Serrano. 

Not many days after the departure of Don 
Carlos for Monterey, there came to the mission 
one morning a rough and wicked-looking sailor 
who sought the padre and informed him that he 
had been one of the pirate band, but had reformed 
and was now living an honest life. He had 
come, he said, to make inquiries about his child, 
who had been left at the mission sixteen years 
before. He described the child and said her 
name was Loma. His wife had been accident- 
ally killed while preparing the child for bed by 
two of the pirates who were fighting. He con- 
fessed that he was a very wicked man then, and 
had no love for the child, but when the vessel 
came ashore they brought the babe with them 
and gave her away. He spoke of the chain about 
the infant’s neck and said it was one he had stolen 
from the neck of a rich Don’s child in Mexico 
and gave it to his wife, who placed it about her 
own baby’s neck and also gave it the name engraved 
on the clasp. He further said he had a good home 
to give his daughter now and he could find for her 
a good husband. 

Padre Soto, shocked and almost speechless with 
grief, listened to the sailor’s confession with a break- 
ing heart. Could it be, he questioned, that the dear 
child had such an evil father as this sailor of the 
pirates’ crew had been ? Could it be, he again 


205 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 

repeated, that the pure beautiful-faced girl belonged 
to such a hard, villainous-looking man ? 

Padre Soto could not doubt the man’s seemingly 
truthful story and evident desire to undo the wrongs 
of the past as far as he was able. When, soon after 
the interview, Loma saw the padre walking with 
bent head among the cloister ruins, she knew some 
great grief had come to her dear old friend. 

Alas 1 Such grief had not come to Padre Soto 
in all his mission life and when he told Loma of 
the sailor’s words and saw the light fade from her 
eyes and the color leave her bright young face, 
and her lifeless form fall in a swoon on the tiled 
floor, he knew the child had got her death blow. 

With water from the fountain he revived the 
broken-hearted girl, but no words passed her lips 
as the padre repeated the man’s story, till it dawned 
on her mind that this sailor who called himself her 
father wished to take her away. Then with white 
lips she said she would not go with him and that 
she had more right to her life than this pirate of 
the seas could ever have. She vowed she would 
enter a convent and urged the padre to send her at 
once to Los Angeles, where, behind those walls, 
among the sisters, she would be welcome. 

Promising it should be as she wished, Padre Soto 
placed his hand on her head with the parting words, 
“ Be brave, my daughter,” then left her kneeling 
at her shrine and entered the humble dwelling 
which served as the mission chapel, to add his 


206 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

prayers to hers, that the saints would help her to 
bear the trial and disappointment that had come to 
her young life 

** Oh, why did I not die with my mother,” she 
moaned, as for hours she knelt at the shrine before 
which so many prayers had been said and so many 
hopes had been whispered that some day she would 
find her own people. 

The desire and hope and belief that the saints 
would aid her in her search had grown to be her 
daily thought and constant prayer, and now it was 
hard to tear the hope from her heart that there 
were no parents to find, nothing but an ugly real- 
ity. How unlike anything she had pictured in her 
pure life, for she had seen this vicious-looking man 
coming from the chapel and shrank away as he cast 
his wicked eyes upon her. 

i( Surely this man cannot be my father,” she said 
and over and over in her mind was repeated this 
thought, till gradually it grew tc be a comfort and 
gave her strength to endure this great affliction. 
As she moved dizzily away from the place, she 
came face to face with Pedro Mendoza, who, with 
sympathy thinly expressed in his looks, stood wait- 
ing for her at the entrance to the ruins. 

When he saw her he hastened to express his pity 
for her in her trouble, and to beg that she would 
not go away with her father but stay and become 
his wife. He said he had just returned and only a 
few moments before heard the sad news, but while 


207 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


he entreated her for one encouraging word, there 
suddenly came to Loma, born of Divine help, the 
thought, “ This is the work of Pedro ; it is a plot 
between Pedro Mendoza and the sailor ; this bad 
man is not my father and Pedro is wickedly acting 
a part.” 

Swiftly the ideas were formed in her mind and 
loosened her tongue as she said, with withering 
scorn, “ Pedro Mendoza, I would rather go with 
that wretch than marry you, but praise be to all 
the saints, he has no claim on me and if he had, 
nothing would force me to go with him. It has 
been revealed to me that this man’s presence in 
San Juan Capistrano is your work. You have 
plotted with him thinking to get me into your 
power, but the saints will protect me and God will 
punish you for your wicked deeds.” 

With muttered curses and a baffled look on his 
dark face, Pedro Mendoza stood and watched Loma, 
as, without another word, she followed Padre Soto 
into the holy sanctuary where she found the dear 
old priest praying for her. 

When he saw her coming towards him resolute 
and strong, upheld as she was by the belief that 
the sailor was not her father, he could hardly 
believe that it was the same crushed and hopeless 
girl whom he had left a short time before. 

“The saints have heard our prayers,” murmured 
Padre Soto, with tears of joy streaming down his 
kind old face. When Loma told the padre about 


208 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

her meeting with Pedro and of what she had 
accused him, Padre Soto looked grave and troubled 
as he said, “ You must go from San Juan to-mor- 
row, dear child, for there is no limit to what bad 
men will do to attain their evil ends. I am con- 
vinced you are right, my daughter, and that Pedro 
has made us this trouble, but the saints be praised, 
dear child, that it is not true what they would have 
us believe. To-morrow I will put you in Sister 
Ursula’s care, and may the saints protect you till 
then.” With the padre’s blessing, Loma left the 
chapel, feeling comforted and hopeful once more. 

One last visit to the shrine, Loma said she would 
make before leaving the spot where she had spent 
so many happy hours. The shrine which she had 
so jealously guarded must not be left for alien 
hands to throw down and desecrate. To these bits 
of stone and broken images she had told over and 
over again her thoughts and desires, her longing 
for a home and friends of her own kind, some one 
to take the place of the dear old padre who alone 
understood her, when he had passed away. She 
wept as she recalled the days of the past and real- 
ized now that the parting hour was near, how 
closely her life was woven with every detail of her 
simple shrine, with her home life at Mother Marda’s 
and with her loving companion Padre Soto. Doubly 
dear to Loma became the associations of her life at 
Capistrano when she found that, for her own safety, 
she must go from there months before the return of 

(14) 


209 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Don Carlos. Sadly she lingered about the place, 
hallowed with such pleasant memories. For the 
last time she knelt before the altar and at her devo- 
tions she prayed for many peaceful years of life for 
Padre Soto. She asked for the continued watch- 
fulness of her patron saint over her future, which 
would be so different from her past. 

Arising from her knees, strengthened and 
refreshed in spirit, Loma proceeded with the 
hardest of all tasks, that of throwing down her 
shrine. Tearfully she took the pieces of the 
beloved relics which the padre had sacredly blessed, 
and widely scattered them among the ruins. First 
carefully selecting a memento of the shrine for a 
keepsake, Loma went on with the work of moving 
the heavy stones, of which the foundation was com- 
posed, not wishing, as she said, to leave a trace for 
those who could not understand her reverence for 
the holy place. 

In her efforts to move some of the larger tiles, 
she slipped and fell heavily against a broken arch, 
dislodging and bringing down a mass of crushed 
adobe brick. As she arose and shook off the dust 
which enveloped her, she saw disclosed a niche in 
the wall, which had been loosely filled with small 
pieces of tile and bits of mortar, a strange discov- 
ery, Loma thought, to be found in that part of the 
ruins and so near her shrine. 

Curious as to what might be hidden so far above 
her head, Loma piled the stones again, one on 


210 


AROMANCEOF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

another, until she could reach the place by standing 
on them. With haste she pulled the pieces of brick 
and mortar away, till her fingers, groping about, 
could find no more, then, looking in, she saw the 
nook was deeper than she could reach. 

Procuring a strong stick, Loma again mounted 
the pile of stones and, reaching quite to the end of 
the dark space, touched something soft which she 
gradually worked towards the opening. On its 
gaining the light, she saw she had found a large 
bundle, such as she had often seen sailors carry, 
tied about with an old red scarf. 

“For how many years had it lain there, 1 ” she 
wondered, “and for what object had it been so 
carefully hidden ? ” 

While Loma turned the package over wonder- 
ingly, she saw the padre approaching. When he 
drew near she showed him the parcel and made 
known to him her strange discovery of it. Padre 
Soto, in much astonishment, bade her open the 
package at - once. Then it was, to their joyful 
surprise, that Loma found the clothing, which had 
been removed from her, when a child, and securely 
placed in the ruined wall of the mission. On each 
little garment was embroidered the name, “ Loma 
Montero.” Clumsily written on a piece of soiled 
paper were these words : 

“ This clothing belongs to the daughter of Don 
Louis Montero, of Acapulco, Mexico, who, with 
his wife, was lost in a storm at sea. Their little 


2 1 1 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


daughter, tne only survivor of the wreck of the 
ship, was left with an old Mexican woman at San 
Juan Capistrano.” 

There was no name signed to the paper, but it 
was believed to have been written by the man who 
left the child with Mother Marda. 

To Loma’s great joy, Padre Soto could assure 
her that her parents were alive and well when his 
nephew left Mexico. He said her people were old 
friends of his and friends of the Serrano family. 
The padre said he had heard several years before 
of Loma’s parents losing their only child, a little 
girl, but he supposed the child had died in her 
home, and not having heard her name, had no 
reason to connect their loss with the little waif 
left at Capistrano. 

Accompanied by Padre Soto and Sister Ursula, 
Loma sailed for Mexico a few days after making 
the discovery of her birth. The voyage was 
pleasant, and the meeting with her parents on her 
arrival was all that Loma had pictured it would be. 

There they learned that the vessel in which the 
Montero family embarked had been robbed, and 
the child and her nurse secretly taken aboard the 
pirate’s ship. A sudden and fearful storm arose as 
the boats parted, and the ship in which the Montero 
family had taken passage was wrecked. But few 
of the passengers were saved. Don Louis Montero 
and his wife were among the fortunate ones. 
Their child and its nurse (as they believed for 


212 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

years ) went down with the ship. When the 
pirates learned of the loss of the vessel and heard 
that all the passengers and crew had perished, they 
had no further use for the child, so left it at 
Capistrano. Of the nurse nothing was known for 
several years. She had been put ashore in a 
strange country, but eventually found her way 
back to her home in Mexico, and was there informed 
that her old master and mistress were living. To 
them she told of the pirate’s cruelty and how their 
child was stolen for a ransom, but when they heard 
that the passengers went down with the ship and 
all hope of a reward for the child was gone, they 
took the infant away from her at night, and after- 
wards said they had thrown it into the sea. 

Don Louis Montero and his wife mourned many 
years for the loss of their child — years in which 
their little girl was being so kindly cared for by 
Mother Marda and Padre Soto. 

When Don Carlos Serrano returned from Mon- 
terey and learned that Loma had discovered in San 
Juan Capistrano ruins the proofs of her parentage 
and the place where her people lived, he was over- 
joyed with happiness at the speedy answer to their 
prayers. With joyful eagerness he hastened his 
departure, longing to meet his beloved Loma in 
the home of her parents, where he heard she had 
been for some time. Many months had elapsed 
since he left her gazing with tearful eyes at the 
vessel which carried him away, months that had 


213 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


seemed ages while they kept them apart. Now, 
instead of watching the ship that took her betrothed 
farther away from her, Loma eagerly watched the 
incoming vessels, hoping and praying for his safe 
return to share in her great happiness. 

When the white sails of the ship that bore Don 
Carlos back to his native land were sighted, there 
was much joy in Loma’s heart as she watched 
with Padre Soto their near approach. Happy, 
also, were Loma’s parents at the return of Don 
Carlos, whom they knew and loved, and who had 
been indirectly the cause of restoring to them so 
precious a child. 

But when Don Carlos pleaded with them for an 
early marriage, they begged that they might keep 
their daughter a few months longer, then they 
would give her to him. 

A year later the wedding bells joyfully rang for 
Don Carlos Serrano and Loma Montero. Padre 
Soto once more joined the hands of the happy 
pair, but this time he spoke the words that made 
them one. Loma never returned to the Capis- 
trano mission, but a princely gift for Mother Marda 
found its way to San Juan. Also, a wedding gift 
to Rosa, whom she heard was to marry Pedro 
Mendoza. Pedro had repented of his sins and 
confessed to Padre Soto’s successor that he and 
the sailor had lied to the padre to get Loma’s con- 
sent to marry him. The sailor, he said, was to be 
paid a sum of money if he succeeded in making 


214 


A ROMANCE OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 

Padre Soto believe his story. But the Heavenly 
Father brought their evil work to naught, and the 
padre punished them both by a long penance for 
their wickedness. 

It was a fortunate circumstance that led Loma 
to choose that spot in the great ruins for her shrine 
in preference to many others. So well concealed 
in the broken mission wall they lay for many 
years, these proofs of her parentage, ever within 
reach of her hands and protected by her shrine. 
Cleverly hidden and closely guarded till Fate, 
through her various mediums, chose to unlock for 
her the secret of her life. Without these proofs 
it might have been for Loma a long and possibly 
hopeless search. 

Often she was heard to say that she had gained 
all she wished for in this life, through the kindness 
of the saints and had lost nothing in leaving her 
old home, for her good Padre Soto would for the 
remainder of his life live with his brother monks in 
Mexico. His superior said he had earned his rest 
and to a younger padre was left the mission work 
of San Juan Capistrano. 

Among the Senora Serrano’s valued treasures 
was preserved a piece of the broken image of a 
saint, a relic of the earthquake of 1812, and a sou- 
venir of the shrine she built when a child. This 
bit of broken stone held many pleasant recollections 
of happy days. It recalled her hopes and desires, 
in the fulfilment of which she had been richly 


215 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


blessed. It recalled the morning Don Carlos 
appeared and frightened her into silence with his 
fierce love making. It recalled the happy days 
which followed the padre’s blessing on their 
betrothal. It recalled the pictures of the mission 
ruins as she had seen them in summer, in winter, 
in storms and in sunshine, the dearest place in all 
the world to her. The remembrance also of which 
through a long life of happiness never became dim, 
for many were the visits made in the spirit, to this 
sacred spot, refreshing anew the memories of her 
early home at the Franciscan Mission of San Juan 
Capistrano. 


216 


BARTOLO’S RETURN 


AN A B ALONE SHELL 


Last night I found upon the sandy beach 
An abalone shell , the sea had thrown 
From off the rocks , the place where it had grown. 

That lustrous nacre as it lay to bleach , 

Cave me a theme that I to all could preach ; 

It was, “ How little are God's wonders known," 

On every side so lavish has He sown , 

Yet on we pass quite heedless what' s in reach. 

Then sad became my thoughts there on the sand. 

While restless waves their nocturnes moaned to me ; 
For that bright pearl made by our Father's hand, 
Disclosed that I, of intellect so free. 

Could at my death leave not one work so grand. 

As was that shell left stranded by the sea. 

— “ Father Juniper o Serra,” Act III. 


BARTOLO’S RETURN 


S INCE early morning Manuela and her three 
little girls had been busily working in and 
about their humble adobe home at Mission San 
Gabriel. The cleaning, cooking and decorating had 
kept them all happily employed throughout the 
long, long day. The children had gathered wild 
flowers and placed them in every part of the large 
room ; brilliant wreaths were festooned on the time- 
stained walls as high as their little hands could 
reach. Huge boughs from the pepper tree loaded 
with scarlet berries, filled and brightened all the 
dark corners, and the deeply recessed window seats. 
These were banked high with many lovely varieties 
of vines and gorgeous wild blossoms, which con- 
cealed the broken adobe plaster, as well as the 
rough and ancient wood-work, turning those spa- 
cious alcoves into perfect fairy bowers of loveliness. 
Though many of the flowers were beginning to 
droop their heads from having been gathered so 
long, still they would look beautiful when the room 
was lighted at night by the open fire that cast its 
ruddy glow like great shafts of light to the far 
corners of the room. The firelight softened and 
brought out beautiful pictures from the discolored 
ceiling, as it danced and waved and flickered about 
the place. 


219 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


Ah, yes ! Manuela well knew what phantoms 
of pleasure and pain the weird and ghostly shadows 
could nightly contrive for her, as she worked while 
her little ones slept. For the last year the wav- 
ering shadows had outlined only grewsome shapes 
that flitted about overhead and down the cracked 
and broken wall. Ofttimes it was a fierce battle 
in which she saw Bartolo slain. Then again she 
fancied the flames leaped red and angry and 
reminded her of blood. At such times she prayed 
for the protection of her loved ones. Fanciful 
pictures, teeming with happy scenes she had not 
found after Bartolo left to serve his country. Since 
that day her vivid imagination had conjured up 
visions of battlefields and dead and dying men. 
Such a season of joyousness as this day had been 
to her she had not known for many months. 

Dancing, singing, happy as birds, her children 
flitted in and out of the flower-decked room. The 
well-swept floor and hearth, and the festive appear- 
ance of the house, created little bursts of excite- 
ment in the children and a happiness too deep for 
words in the mother. Their childish delight was 
especially manifest when their mother held up to 
view some dainty bit of pastry, in which they were 
to share. The savory smell of food pervading the 
house was, to the little ones, an odor far more 
agreeable than the sweet perfume exhaled from the 
banks of flowers. For whom was all this great 
preparation made ? Why the happy smile on Man- 


220 


BARTOLO’S RETURN 


uela’s face and the glad light in her eyes ? Why 
was her step more light than usual ? She was too 
poor to have friends on whom she could spend so 
much time and money, for she had to work hard 
each day to support herself and little ones. Some- 
times she would work for the sisters, washing and 
ironing their beautiful white bonnets, and often she 
had work in some American family where, besides 
her wages, they would give her food and clothing 
for her children. Yes, the Americanos were very 
kind to her, and why should they not be kind ? 
Did they not precipitate this cruel war, that took 
from her people their homes and their protectors ? 
Still they were very kind ; had they not given her 
the most beautiful flowers at the time of year when 
flowers were scarce, that she might decorate the 
picture of the infant Jesus? Before the painting 
of the Christ-child now were strewn bunches of 
pure white, fragrant lilies which had been sent to 
her only that morning. Surely they were kind to 
remember her this day, the day of all days to her. 

As the time drew near for the expected one to 
arrive, the excitement of the children grew intense. 
In their eagerness to see down the road they 
pressed their little brown faces close to the moss- 
grown picket fence, and, with eyes shining like 
stars, eagerly gazed through the open spaces, wait- 
ing for the first glimpse of the rise of dust that 
would herald the approach of horses. Manuela 
had answered their impatient question, “ Is it not 


221 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


almost time for mia Padre to come ? ” many times 
in the last hour. Even Manuela, now that she 
might expect her husband at any moment, found 
herself becoming as impatient as they. 

For almost two years Bartolo had served his 
country, and now he was coming home to rest and 
gain strength from a wound he had received. “He 
was very weak,” he wrote, but thought he would 
be able to travel soon and hoped to be with them 
in a few days. Manuela wondered if he would 
know the children, they had grown so tall, and 
the baby, who could not walk when he left, was 
now running about, so bright and happy. And 
such pretty children as they all were, where could 
you find their equal ? Not among the pale faced 
Americanos , she was sure. Oh, no ! their children 
were not so pretty as hers. How proud Bar- 
tolo would be of them, she thought, and now her 
impatience exceeded that of the children, and she 
divided her time by running to the door and look- 
ing in the direction from which Bartolo was to 
come, and by watching the appetizing stew that 
was steaming over the fire. 

Suddenly came a cry of joy from the children, 
“Mia padre! Mia padre /” Yes, there was the 
cloud of dust at last, and through it could be seen 
a wagon coming slowly up the road. But why 
creeping along ? Was Bartolo not as impatient as 
they ? But then, how thoughtless of her, Manuela 
said, of course he was tired with his long journey, 


222 



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BARTOLO’S RETURN 


he had been so ill, and the roads were rough. 
Slowly the cart came nearer in the gathering 
gloom, mistily wreathed about with its gray curtain 
of dust, and hiding her loved one from view. 
Nearer and nearer it crawled towards the impatient 
watchers, and now each turn of the wheels seemed 
slower than the last to Manuela’s anxious eyes. 
At last her keen sight penetrated the gray cloud, 
and she saw old Mateo, who had left that morning 
to meet her husband. But why, she asked herself, 
was he alone and looking so sad ? Did Bartolo 
not come, after all ? Ah, yes, she could see now 
that the wagon was not empty, he was lying down, 
he must be very tired ; or perhaps ill. She has- 
tened to the road as the wagon, with its burden, 
drew up, but the sad face of Mateo told the story 
before he could speak: Bartolo was dead. He 
had died on the way to his loved ones. 

With a heart-breaking cry of despair Manuela 
sank down by the lifeless body of her husband, 
whom kind friends had removed from the wagon. 
They carried Bartolo into the flower-decked room 
and placed him on a cot, which little hands had 
strewn with bright blossoms for his resting place. 
Then the three little children, with sorrowfully 
frightened faces, silently followed their mother as 
she was borne, almost lifeless, into the house. 
With a strange mixture of fear and awe they tim- 
idly passed through the door from which they had 
bounded so joyously a few moments before. Then 


223 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


the gloom of night spread over the land, shutting 
them in as with the darkness of death. Turning 
the happy day into a night of despair, their festi- 
val, into mourning. Surely, none but the Holy 
Mother could give them comfort now. 


224 


THE DREAM CHILD’S PROPHECY 


THE PROPHECY OF 
FATHER JUNIPER O SERRA 


Before me now a golden era looms ; 

Progressive spirits will invade these wilds , 

And coming , stay ; there are attractions here : 
Within these mountain borders are contained 
All things that needy man can ever want , 

For Nature reveled in her lavishment 
And left a masterpiece terrestrial : 

If ever distant shores were to be known , 

And in the knowings recognized as great ; 

Then o' er the name of California , 

Entwine the seal and symbols of success ! 

— Father Juniper o Serra, Act IV, Scene II. 


THE DREAM CHILD’S PROPHECY 


B ENEATH the oaks and among the tombs of 
the mission cemetery of San Fernando Rey 
I often lingered long after the sun went down. 
And on this particular evening of which I write 
the air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, the 
birds sent out sleepy little notes of good-night to 
each other, and mingled with the soft swaying of 
branches and rustle of leaves was the drowsy hum 
of insects waking to life as evening came on. 

One grave among the many attracted me more 
than the others, and I doubted not its history 
would be worth learning. I had noticed fresh 
flowers were each day twined about the sunken 
cross and broken, moss-covered fencing that sur- 
rounded it. I twice caught sight of an old Mexi- 
can woman, feeble with age, leaving the place. 
Thinking she could weave a pretty romance for me 
if I could get her to talk, I watched for her the 
next day quite near the sunken grave. In answer 
to my question, what the inscription meant, she 
translated for me the words: “Nita, the Dream 
Child,” which was engraved in Spanish on the 
stone cross. 

By adroitly questioning the old woman I gleaned 
from her what she knew and what she had heard 


227 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION DAYS 


when a child, which I will relate in her own 
words : 

u When Nita’s mother died she left her little girl 
in charge of the good sisters, bequeathing her to 
their kind care ; and with them she grew up to be 
a lovely girl, the pride of her father and the 
beloved of all the parish. Always a thoughtful 
child, she seemed in the last year of her life to be 
given over to dreaming and seeing visions to such 
a degree that her friends, while they loved her, also 
held aloof from her, as with a holy awe. Her 
large, mournful eyes were growing larger and more 
far-seeing each day. In vain the sisters talked with 
her and consulted with each other ; nothing would 
arouse her from the gloom of her thoughts. Her 
father would say, * Why do you worry your little 
head with such foolishness, Nita, dreaming dreams 
and seeing visions that will come to naught ? You 
best be learning your catechism and asking the 
Holy Mother to drive away the evil spirits. I 
heard the kind sisters speaking of you last night, 
and they say you are not as other children/ 

“ ‘ I know 1 am not, mia padre> but I can’t help 
my visions, as you call them. I tell you before 
many years the change will come, and our old life 
will be of the past. Strange people will invade 
this country, and unchristian doings will remove all 
that the padres have worked so hard to establish. 
Our beautiful mission will be left to crumble to 
decay, and this happy life will be spoken of as an 


228 



Founded September 8, 1797 
























































































































THE DREAM CHILD’S PROPHECY 


epoch of the early days of California, without a 
regret for the loss of all that made our life so 
beautiful. This new condition will not benefit our 
people, their lands will be taken from them, their 
rights will not be respected. Already I see the 
dawn of a new era in these visions, and the almost 
extinction of our race is sure to follow. I will not 
live to see that time, but others of my companions 
will.* 

“Nita’s father silently turned away and sought 
the good priest, to whom he told his troubles, and 
asked advice how best to deal with his unfortunate 
child, whom he was sure was possessed by the evil 
one. Yes, the beautiful Dream Child, as she was 
called, faded away day by day, and as she grew 
weaker her powers of seeing the future grew 
stronger till almost her last words were, * Look for 
the new era ! It will come in your time, and it 
means decay to our missions and death to our 
people.* 

“And so she died, and San Fernando knew her 
no more. Scarce sixteen years had she lived, 
years so little in keeping with childhood ; surely 
the name Dream Child was not amiss. Yes, she 
is buried here, and some one of her old companions 
place flowers on the cross above her grave each 
day. 

“ A few are all that are left now who knew her 
in life and saw her buried in this grave over a half 
century ago. 


229 


ROMANCES OF THE MISSION, DAYS 


“ I well remember the day, though I was but a 
child ; the sad drip, drip of the rain mingled with 
our tears, and impressed us still more with the 
gloom and truth of her prophecy. Yes, I live in 
the past, and it comforts me to sit here for hours 
each day thinking of the child who dreamed away 
her life,” said the Mexican woman, as she drew 
her shawl about her and arose. 

“What was the great change? Need you ask, 
Senor ? ” replied the old woman, as she disappeared 
in the dusk of a perfect California evening. And 
need it be doubted what the panorama was the 
gifted child saw as she looked through the years 
to come. The strangers did indeed invade these 
shores, and with them came modern improvements, 
and keeping pace with science and progress came 
the decay of the missions and the gradual extinc- 
tion of the native Californians. 

Could the Dream Child, spoken of so lovingly 
by the old woman, have foreseen in her wildest 
imagining Southern California as it is to-day, with 
its wealth of lovely homes, taking the place of the 
historic adobes ; its electric cars climbing up the 
mountains to palaces perched on the top of its 
high ridges, its steam cars threading their way 
over the valleys and through the mountains ; what 
could not a dream child of to-day see in the next 
fifty years ? Verily, all things are possible in Cali- 
fornia. Nature, with her marvelous power, has 
taken ages to perfect the wonders of this western 


230 


THE DREAM CHILD’S PROPHECY 


world, in mountains, valleys and climate ; and 
man, with his boundless opportunities, is ever 
striving to imitate the skill by which Nature works 
her charms. 

No marvel that the Dream Child saw the coun- 
try slipping from the grasp of her people. So per- 
fect a climate could not belong to a few, and even 
coming changes may more than equal the growth 
of the past and present age. Then we will find 
ourselves growing old and lost in the progress of 
things, as was the old Mexican woman, with her 
sad, “ Need you ask, Senor ? ” 


FINIS 


231 


SEP 27 ISCiJ 



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IRfirr'19 


Romances 

of tfje 

California J&ission Baps 


'EY 

ELIZABETH GORE MILLER 



cA Book for the Resident and 
cA Souvenir for the Tourist 


PRICE 75 CENTS 






























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